


And All the Prince's Men

by FindingSchmomo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Blood, Child Abuse, Childhood Friends, Cliff hangers, Demons, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Slow Burn, not going for historical accuracy here, you can't run away from your problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 22:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 65,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11495643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingSchmomo/pseuds/FindingSchmomo
Summary: "Father only loves that which he owns, and I am the one thing that can never truly be his."In which Iwaizumi Hajime is a young orphan suddenly thrust upon the royal court, and Oikawa is the Prince he's been assigned to. A story of their friendship and love, of their years spent together and apart, of their losses suffered and their wins hard fought.





	1. Part I - Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Father only loves that which he owns, and I am the one thing that can never truly be his.”

Iwaizumi Hajime is taken from his bed in the middle of the night. He drags his feet, eyes bleary in the darkness, sleep-addled mind confused. Strong hands grip his forearm and pull him roughly down the hallway. 

He squints when he’s forced outside into the pale moonlight, head groggy. He mumbles something, he doesn’t even know what, and is hauled into an open cart. There are other orphans there, most are awake, eyes wide and fearful. Iwaizumi recognizes a few in the silver light.

The crack of a whip breaks the air and the cart starts moving. He looks over at the shack that had been his home for years. He looks back over at the sea of terrified eyes in the cart, huddling together and shivering. 

He closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. 

Iwaizumi Hajime is woken up when the rhythmic clomping of the cart comes to an abrupt halt. Shouts are exchanged and the screech of a gate being opened has the children around him covering their ears. The smell in the cart is putrid, Iwaizumi realizes, and he decides he wants to get out. 

He stands up, legs numb from being folded up all night, making him sway. He steadies himself on the wood railing of the cart, using it as a guide as he picks his way through the wriggling little limbs of the other orphans until he finds himself at the very back. He plans on jumping off when the cart jerks back into motion. 

There’s a moment where he has to catch himself, hands gripping the bottom railing tight enough that splinters dig into his palms. The motion has his head bob out of the cart, squinting in the onslaught of sunlight. The road is paved hear in cobblestone, recently washed. The grass is green and tidy along the sides, and as they move he is able to see the enormous white gate that had paused their journey.

He gapes at it. It’s blinding, the way it reflects the sun, swallowing up the light only to shine it out as a bright expanse of white. It’s two men high and Iwaizumi immediately feels the need to climb it. Longs for the challenge of it. He imagines the bars to be slick and polished, no dents or pits for proper foot holes. An impossible climb. 

He grins. 

The gate fades in the distance as the cart keeps moving. Iwaizumi sits down, letting his little legs slip through the wooden railing so they dangle outside the cart, bouncing to the rhythm of the hoof beats. He starts pulling at the splinters in his hands as he takes in the view. The yard they are in is beautiful. Lush trees planted alongside blue and white flowers border the cobblestone paths. Servants pass back and forth, hurried in their motions. 

They must be at some noble’s mansion Iwaizumi figures, though for reasons beyond his comprehension. He wonders if he can figure out which noble based solely on the yard. But he barely paid attention to the Sisters’ lectures back in the orphanage about the neighboring Lords and Ladies. He just knew he had to be on his best behavior when they visited. 

He at least remembers Lord Hanamaki’s visit. His mansion is the closest, and he had been searching for a personal attendant for his son to grow up with him. 

That was normally why nobles visited orphanages. Always because they wanted something--or rather, _someone_. 

Iwaizumi assumes this trip must be for similar effect. Though he imagines this noble must be exceedingly lazy to round up orphans to bring to him rather than just visiting the home. At least It’s a nice change of pace and a refreshing view from the bland colors of the old farm. 

He stands again at the edge of the cart, trying to peer around the wagon to see what manor they were headed for. He wonders if it is Lord Hanamaki’s. It’s the only elite family he really knows.

He gasps, eyes widening at the sight of the _castle_ suddenly coming into view in front of him. He ducks back into the cart, hands suddenly sweaty with an onset of nerves. 

Correction.

He did know one other powerful family in the kingdom.

The cart comes to a halt, jolting its terrified passengers. A guard swings around along with the driver into view. Iwaizumi scurries back from the edge, suddenly self conscious of the rags he is dressed in. His face is most likely covered in dirt. He had not seen a bath in weeks. 

The wooden rail is opened and the guard shouts, “Alright, everybody out! And be quick about it. We don’t want to keep the King waiting!”

Iwaizumi can feel the fear emanating off the other orphans as they are torn from the cart and filed into the looming castle. Iwaizumi swallows and follows, trying to blend in as best he can with the larger group.

He had never in his wildest dreams imagined he would meet the King of Aoba Johsai, let alone in his piss stained rags and mud caked hair. Utter shame seeps into his gut, weighing him down and making each step heavier. Iwaizumi had never really liked to dwell on his current rank in life, and so it had never really bothered him. He was strong and healthy, and tilling the fields could always be punctuated with fun moments, like finding cool insects or enjoying a cool breeze or climbing an especially tall tree. He had never been self conscious about his shoeless feet. 

But at this moment, as he trudges into the castle and feels ice prickle at his toes through the white tiled floor, he feels nothing but nausea at what kind of greeting awaited him. He keeps his eyes low, barely taking in the Great Hall that expands around him, ornate and beautiful. 

The King is a righteous ruler, but a cold and strict one. His reputation is one spilling more blood than honey. Iwaizumi curls his toes as he is forced to stand in a certain group. He takes a breath, tries to swallow down the revulsion and take in his surroundings.

The guards are inspecting the orphan boys, dividing them into two groups. Iwaizumi can’t quite comprehend their exact aim with this, but as more children are categorized, it becomes clear there is at least one superficial aspect differentiating the two. 

To the left stand the scrawny kids who look underfed and to the right were the kids who had built a bit of muscle working the fields. Iwaizumi had been placed with the latter. 

One guard takes his time checking over each scrawny kid, counting teeth and inspecting hair for lice. He has them walk back and forth to see how they carry themselves, whether their shoulders droop or remain stiff. He has them lift trays, balancing items as they walk in careful circles. Throughout the little performances he directs boys back and forth. Those who do not pass are sent back to the cart. 

Iwaizumi isn’t sure if he wants to stay or be sent back. 

The second guard is with his group. He also checks their mouths for missing teeth and their hair for lice. He touches their arms too, feeling for budding muscles, testing the waters of burgeoning strength. He makes them run, from one end of the hall to the other, checking for speed and stamina. 

Iwaizumi passes, too nervous and uncertain to try to hide any of his skills. He stands in the winning group as the other exhausted boys are herded back to the cart. There are still more boys to be tested but a halting whisper sweeps through the room. An ominous chill creeps up the backs of both guards and servants, scaring the children stiff. 

The guards stop their observations and quickly shove the untested children back toward the cart. 

The scrawny group is lined up and told to stay quiet. Iwaizumi feels a boy in his group clutch his hand. He squeezes back in acknowledgement. He doesn’t dare move his head to see who it is.

He can hear voices coming. Arguing in hushed tones, getting closer. Getting _louder_. Iwaizumi holds his breath. 

A soft boyish plea murmurs into the hall, caught only by how silent the rest of the world had become, “Father, _please_ I’m tired. I don’t want to keep--”

“Tooru, for the last time, this is not a discussion. Now stop talking back to me before I get angry!” The thick air is sucked into a vacuum as the harsh tone bellows through the hall. It’s as if no one can breathe now, especially with the voice’s owner-- _The King of Aoba Johsai--_ stepping into view.

Iwaizumi tries to stand up straighter, balls of his feet rising in the effort until he stands on his tiptoes. He exhales the breath he was holding, letting himself fall back to the flats of his feet. _Relax_ , he tells himself. The boy holding his hand grips him tighter. 

The King is still a distance away, but his crisp white uniform and glistening crown make him all the more imposing even from afar. He cradles a young boy with matching black hair in his arms. His head is buried in his father’s neck, but everyone in the room knows who he must be. Iwaizumi counts in his head. He remembers celebrating the young prince’s first birthday, years ago in town. 

Prince Tobio must be four years old now. 

Trailing the King is another young boy, Iwaizumi’s age (he was also certain of that), clad in his own crisp white tunic with light blue beading that caught the sunlight spilling into the room and made him dazzle. The young boy keeps pace, head high, his beautiful hair styled perfectly in place. Nestled in the brown strands is a simple tiara that sparkled, creating dancing patterns along the walls that shifted with each step. 

Iwaizumi can not take his eyes off of him. His hands feel sweaty in the presence of royalty and he quickly pries his one arm free from the other boy’s clutches. It‘s much too hot in the tightly packed group of children. He wants out. But the guard sends him a harsh glare and he finds himself rooted to the spot. 

The beautiful prince stops walking, and it is then that Iwaizumi notices just how _tired_ the poor boy looks. His face is a deteriorating mask of politeness. Underneath the plastered smile Iwaizumi can see the tenseness of his jaw, hinting at clenched teeth.  His brown eyes prove even more obvious, eyelids battling to stay open as sweat beads by his brow. A portrait of pure exhaustion, framed by his trembling legs. 

Prince Tooru speaks again, “Father, I don’t wan--”

There is a crack in the room, and Prince Tooru falls to his knees, clutching the side of his reddening face. The King straightens back up, shaking his hand loosely in the air, “I warned you, Tooru, I was getting angry.” he growls out, “Now, look, you’ve created a scene! Is that what you wanted?”

“Get back in line!” 

It takes a moment for Iwaizumi to realize the guard’s sudden bark is directed at him because it is in that same moment that the Prince has turned towards him. Brown eyes filled with fear and shame and guilt bore into Iwaizumi’s face and Iwaizumi wants to reach out to him more than anything. 

He must have instinctively rushed forward, because he soon realizes he has stepped out of the group entirely. It is a short lived freedom, because the guard soon forces him back with an especially rough shove. Prince Tooru’s stare follows him into the crowd before looking back down at the ground. 

“You’re putting on a show for the peasants now? Come on Tooru get up, is this the Prince you want the world to see?” The King huffs, tapping his foot impatiently. The boy in his arms squirms, but keeps his face firmly nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

Prince Tooru stands up on shaky legs and pushes his chin up high. Iwaizumi can see him blinking furiously up at the ceiling. Not a single tear falls down his face. 

“Now, if you’re so desperate to go to bed, pick your new attendant quickly and you can be dismissed.” The King snaps nudging the boy towards the line of scrawny children. Prince Tooru almost stumbles again from the shove, but his chin never points downward for a second. He stands, resolute in front of the cowering line of boys his age. 

But then he turns, completely, as if bored by the array and locks eyes once again with Iwaizumi, “I want him.” He declares, index finger pointing directly at Iwaizumi’s forehead.

“Those boys are for the knight program. Pick from this line-up.” The King dismisses easily, barely sparing Iwaizumi so much as a glance.

Prince Tooru remains resolute and Iwaizumi is impressed at how defiant he can be despite what had just transpired. A fire seems to burn in those brown eyes that nothing could tamp down, not exhaustion nor a father’s cruel words. Something clenches in Iwaizumi’s chest as he tries not to dwell on it. He decides it must be from all of the sudden attention. 

“Every boy before now has not made it.” The Prince argues, keeping his gaze firmly on Iwaizumi, “Doesn’t to give me someone stronger than the usual lot?”

The King seems to consider this a moment, before turning to the guard, “Bring the boy out here for a closer look.”

Iwaizumi is now pulled roughly out of the group. He had longed to be free of the oppressive mob  but now he feels vulnerable and naked. Again he is reminded of the rags barely clothing his body, of the dirt caked to his face, of the revolting smell he probably exudes. He looks down at his bare feet, feeling a burn in the back of his eyes.

But then he thinks of the Prince and he decides that if he would not put his head down, then he should not either. So he looks up, green eyes finding brown and stands up straighter. 

“Your name, boy,” the guard orders.  

Iwaizumi swallows and keeps his eyes connected to the Prince’s. It’s easier then having them wander about the expansive room, or worse, try to figure out how he is supposed to look at the King. 

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” he announces, and his voice does not shake as much as he had feared.

The Prince grins, an expression that looks a little lopsided from the swelling on the side of his face. Iwaizumi can see a weltforming on his cheek in the shape of an expensive ring. He feels his fists tighten at his sides at the sight of it. 

“An ugly boy with an ugly voice.” The King scoffs. Iwaizumi feels his face burn, but he does not look down. He bites his tongue and keeps his eyes trained on the Prince. 

“He’s perfect.” The Prince insists in turn. Iwaizumi feels his neck burn and something bubble in his chest. He had never been called perfect in his entire life.

“If you insist, Tooru. We’ll have him cleaned up and trained for you.” The King sighs, turning away from Iwaizumi to look back at the line up of skinny orphans, “And no, you are not dismissed yet, help me pick an attendant for your brother and some new servants.”

Iwaizumi does not see which other boys share his similar fate because he is whisked away by one of the male servants and ushered deeper into the castle. His gaze is torn from the Prince’s and he suddenly feels disoriented, like the ground had suddenly been ripped right from under him.

* * *

Iwaizumi Hajime does not see the Prince, nor any member of the royal family for another week. instead, he is passed from servant to servant, room to room, as they ‘clean up the last one’s mess’.

_Every boy before now has not made it._

They were words spoken by the Prince himself, that Iwaizumi had almost completely forgotten. But each worried glance his direction, each apologetic smile, each mention of _it is so troublesome to get blood out of the sheets,_ keeps the words spinning in his brain. 

Just what had happened to the previous attendant?

No one will tell him. That’s the first lesson he learns. No one answers any of his questions unless they pertain exactly to the task at hand. And so he decides to keep his mouth shut, not to push, and go with the motions. 

It’s weird work. Work he’s never really done before, and he had started helping the Sister’s with the field by the age of five. He had four years worth of training in planting, animal husbandry, and general manual labor. All seemingly useless to him now. 

“Come along Iwaizumi, you won’t need to do this for long.” The laundry maid calls from over her stack of clothing. Iwaizumi pulls his gaze away from the knights in training, running laps around the grounds. He shifts the heavy basket in his arms and follows after the woman. 

They stop at the drying lines and Iwaizumi begins handing the maid folded clothing with newfound practiced ease. It feels as if he has spent the whole week learning how to fold anything and everything correctly. He hadn’t even known there were wrong ways to fold things! He had bruises on his palms to prove it now. 

“When you take on your responsibilities you will not be in charge of the young Prince’s laundry. But you will have to keep everything organized and operating smoothly. It is important to know how it all works and check in from time to time. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” Iwaizumi responds quietly. 

She smiles at him, pinning some sheets to the line and pulling them nice and taught. She steps over to the next empty space. Iwaizumi lifts out another sheet, seeing the pesky stains of blood, faded but still present on the linen.

_Every boy before now has not made it._

Iwaizumi tries not to think about it and gives the sheet to the maid. She tsks in annoyance, “There’s just no way to get it out.” She sighs, but then eyes the boy beside her, “Well, this may be lucky for you.”

Iwaizumi looks up at her curiously at the comment.

“These sheets are no longer fit for the Prince but it would be a waste to throw them out. Have you seen your future room yet?” She asks.

“No, ma’am. I have been staying with the butlers in the servants wing.” 

She continues, “You’ll be moved to the room attached to the Prince’s chamber soon enough. It’s very small, but you will have it to yourself. No bed, just straw and a few rough sheets.” 

Iwaizumi nods. He had been told probably every day this week of his future living arrangements. How lucky he is to have a whole room to himself. 

“Now, how would you feel having some silken sheets as well? What a wonderful homecoming present I’ve thought of!” 

Iwaizumi forces a smile despite the nausea circling in his stomach. His eyes keep being drawn to the horrid stain. His predecessor’s blood. He feels sick. 

“Iwaizumi, you’re such a sweet boy. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” The maid pats his head, and Iwaizumi doesn’t feel very comforted. 

“Iwaizumi!” 

The sweet boy in question turns around immediately, stiffly, “Yes, sir?”

The guard comes trotting over, “The King has called for you to start your duties tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Iwaizumi repeats, feeling sweat slick his palms, making his grip on the sheet in his hands tenuous as best, “I still have weeks of training.”

“Orders from the King.” The guard repeats. The maid takes the sheet from his small hands and Iwaizumi can feel her hand squeeze his arm. It doesn’t comfort him. The guard continues as he comes closer, “Your training will continue, do not worry. Now hurry, you need to be bathed.”

Iwaizumi is passed to the next butler he and the guard come across. The guard whispers instruction to the man’s ear who nods and takes Iwaizumi’s forearm in hand to drag him back inside from the castle grounds. Iwaizumi much prefers the grounds to the interior castle. He had dedicated his minimal downtime the past few days to exploring it in detail. He had barely scratched the surface. 

There was an orchard on the grounds, myriads of flowers and courts. To the west he could see a beautiful forest he was antsy to run through, but the tall imperial gate surrounded the grounds and barred him from leaving without certain permission. One day, he promises himself.

Inside the castle is loud and hectic. Servants run back and forth from rooms in mild panic. Actually, much more panic than usual, Iwaizumi thinks, as he presses himself against the butler attached to him to get out of the way of a running maid. 

“What’s going on?” He asks.

The butler gives him a glance, bites his lip and tugs him up the stairs. It’s quieter here, as they get closer to the servants quarters, with all of them being out and about. He’s shoved into the bathroom and the butler closes the door behind him. 

“Hurry now, undress. One of the maids should have drawn you a bucket already.” The butler hisses, hurrying over to confirm the action.

Iwaizumi slips off his hand me down slip. He had already had a thorough bathing when he first arrived. Years of grime had been scrubbed off him. His dark skin lightened somewhat and his hair felt smooth running through his fingers. 

There was less dirty this time to scrub off himself, but there also seemed much less time. 

“Now listen,” The butler begins, helping the boy clean his back, “You asked what’s going on correct? Well, I feel, perhaps its best you know so you’re ready tonight.” Iwaizumi stares at him, “His Majesty and the Prince had a disagreement. It’s best not to talk about it. They’re both in a foul mood now. His Majesty believes an attendant can keep the Prince calm and quiet his tantrums. Anyway, I know it’s sudden, but I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just be aware not to step on the Prince’s toes. He’s already very upset.”

“Is this what happened to the other attendants?” Iwaizumi can not help but ask, quietly, into his bare knees.

The butler seems to stiffen, his scrubbing motions falling still. He lets out a sigh, “No one knows what happened to them.” He confesses, “The Prince is always torn up about it but you can’t help thinking...” The butler seems to catch himself, fingers digging into the block of soap. He swallows, “Just, be careful and be smart tonight. Now hurry and dry yourself, the tailor has finished your uniform just in time.”

Iwaizumi dries off quickly, passing into the neighboring room where his uniform has been laid out. He slips on the pale blue leggings first, easily. He looks at the rest of the uniform, a simple white tunic, but the nicest thing he’s ever worn. He is immediately terrified to stain it. Why must white be one of the kingdom’s official colors? The tunic falls to his knees, a bit big but not enough to warrant the effort to change. A corded light blue sash ties along his waist.

The butler nods, “Alright, head up to the Prince’s chambers. He should be retiring soon.”

“Where is he now?” Iwaizumi asks, trying to distract himself. 

“Sparring practice.” 

Iwaizumi blinks, stopping mid stride, “Still?”

The butler swallows, pulling him along, “Yes.”

“He started practicing before lunch! It’s almost sundow-“

“It may be what the argument was about.” The butler cuts in quietly, pushing the boy back through the main hall. This time they climb the ornate main stairs, heading toward the royal chambers. 

“Won’t the Prince be having dinner soon?” Iwaizumi asks, as the chamber doors come into view. 

The butler doesn’t look at him as he pushes open the door to reveal the opulent room. It is Iwaizumi’s first time in here and he gasps. He did not know beds could come so large! With four grand posts at every corner and a beautiful silken blue canopy draped above. A window overlooks the beautiful forest that tugs at Iwaizumi’s heart. 

A table and chair sits to the side, set up for an untouched game of chess. To the right a tall book case filled with books, and to the right of that, a writing desk. Iwaizumi isn’t given the chance to explore as he is shoved into the side chamber, revealing a closet sized room with a slit of a window. 

His room. 

There’s a pile of sheets on the floor, hay stuffed beneath them. There’s an old wooden wardrobe in the corner next to the window. The butler opens it, nodding, “Good. You have a second uniform in here. You are in charge of washing your own garments, remember.”

Iwaizumi nods, pulling at the sleeves of his outfit. The butler keeps talking, “You will hear him as he comes down the hall. Be in his room and await instructions from him.”

Before Iwaizumi can ask anymore questions or beg the man to stay a little longer, he leaves. Iwaizumi takes a deep breath, sinking down into his sheets, feeling the walls moving too close to him. He had not been alone in a week. Not truly alone, like this, in a cell awaiting his imminent sacrifice. 

He had spent the week fearing this day, with the worried whispers shared between all the servants. 

_What a sweet boy._

_What a shame._

_The Prince is always so upset, it can’t be his--_

_Who else?_

_The Prince is rotten, we all see it!_

_So lazy, complains about every task, so dreadful. No wonder His Majesty is so hard on him._

_But what a sweet boy, Iwaizumi is._

_If only he could have been a knight._

Iwaizumi pulls at the straw beneath him in a sudden fit. He tries to calm down, tries to empty his mind of other words and remember what he had seen. Seen with his own two eyes. A boy, his age, beautiful but stubborn but just a _child_. Not a monster. The only monster he recalls from the scene is the King himself, and his silver ringed fingers. 

Iwaizumi takes another breath, but it hitches in his throat as he hears stomping coming closer, and a shrill voice pierce the silence, “I don’t care what he says! I’m done! No one is to bother me until morning do you hear me? Get out!”

Iwaizumi stands up, remembering the butler’s words, _be in his room, await orders_. He fumbles with his door knob before scrambling to stand in the Prince’s chamber. He takes another breath before straightening at attention--hands clasped behind his back--and waits. 

The door is thrown open and the Prince storms in, slamming it shut behind him. Iwaizumi had not seen the Prince in days, and his beauty floors him. He’s stunning, as he runs his fingers through his hair, sweat dripping in torrents down his face. 

That can’t be right. 

The Prince before him is soaking in sweat, breath coming in ragged puffs as his chest heaves. He looks close to tears, Iwaizumi realizes, as their eyes lock. The Prince rears back in surprise, mouth opening in shock. 

Iwaizumi feels himself flame up, realizing he’s not sure what he’s supposed to _say_ , “Hello, sire, I don’t know if you remember me but I--“

“What are you doing _here_?!” The Prince screeches, backing into the door with a loud thud. 

“His Majesty-“

The Prince’s eyes seem to widen, “You have to get out. Get out! Get out right now!”

Iwaizumi blinks, not expecting this turn of events at all, “Are you sure?”

The Prince looks like he wants to rip his head off, teeth clenched, hands digging into the wood behind him, “GET OUT RIGHT NOW!”

Iwaizumi wastes no more time, scrambling behind as the Prince screams, and screams, and _screams_. Iwaizumi does not turn around as he shuts the door to his chamber behind him, diving into the pile of sheets and wrapping himself tight. 

The Prince’s screams continue, guttural and pained and desperate. There are thuds and screeches and cracks in the air. The wall connecting them shakes and Iwaizumi covers his ears. 

Iwaizumi knows tantrums well. Living in an orphanage full of sad forgotten children accustoms you to them. He had never heard of a tantrum like this. 

He hears glass shatter. 

He wonders if he’s supposed to stop this. If he was not supposed to leave the Prince to his devices and instead help him through this. But _get out_ seemed as good an order as any to follow. Nevertheless, worry gnaws at his stomach, especially as screams and blows seem to give way to sobs and heaving. 

He waits until the quiet returns to the air. He’s not sure how long it takes, but the moon is high in the night sky when he finally stands up from his pile of sheets. He opens his door softly, peering into the darkened room. 

“Prince Tooru?” He whispers into the air. 

“Go away.” Comes the muffled plea. Iwaizumi can tell it’s coming from the bed. 

Iwaizumi takes a brave step forward. He can’t see anything in the dark, and he knows the room has probably changed a lot since he was last in it. So he treads carefully, using his arms and legs to feel out as he ventures in, “Are you hungry?”

“What?” The Prince responds, and he must have lifted his head from his pillow, because his voice is less muffled. 

“You skipped dinner.” Iwaizumi explains, “I can bring you some food.”

The Prince seems to consider this by the pregnant pause in the air, “I’m too tired. Please don’t come any closer.”

Iwaizumi stops mid step, eyes adjusting to the darkness. The Prince has cocooned himself in his silken sheets. A lump in his bed, a mouth, nose and eye peeking out at him. Even in the darkness his eyes seem to shine. 

“Are you sure?”

The Prince squints at him, fingers digging into his sheets, “Are you not afraid?”

Iwaizumi pulls at his own fingers, “I am.” He decides to be honest, “But,” Iwaizumi adds, bringing his eyes up to look at the young boy lying before him, “Aren’t you?”

The Prince’s visible eye widens, before looking away. He turns himself, completely around, so Iwaizumi can only see the lump of his back surrounded in silk. He wonder’s if he’s crossed some sort of line, scrambling in his head to figure out an apology. 

“I’ll eat a snack.” The Prince mumbles, before Iwaizumi can respond, “But then you’ll leave me. I’m too tired to talk and eat.”

“Yes, sire.” Iwaizumi nods, padding carefully out of the room, picking his way through the minefield on the ground. He can’t figure the details but he knows there will be a huge mess to clean up in the morning. 

He returns from the kitchen with some bread and and warmed up soup. He places the plate on the nightstand, taking a match he borrowed to light the candle. A soft light illuminates the dark room. The Prince has not moved from his cocoon, and Iwaizumi waits a moment before realizing he isn’t going to move at all. 

He steps back over to his chamber door, gives a parting “Goodnight, sire,” before slipping into his tiny room. 

He slips into his makeshift bed, tired, but can only fall asleep once he hears the quiet crunching of a boy eating a late night meal. 

He has pleasant dreams. 

* * *

Iwaizumi Hajime is awakened by a rooster crowing by his window. He stretches the kinks out of his back. Sleep had been restful and easy, but his body is sore from lying on the ground.He would need to get used to it. He slips his tunic back on, tying the sash around his waist and toeing on his shoes. He runs a few fingers through his hair.

He takes a deep breath and steels himself.

Light filters into the Prince’s bed chamber through the window. The closed drapes flutter a little in the morning breeze. He picks his way around the carnage to throw the drapes open, letting the sunlight spill through unimpeded. 

Iwaizumi takes in the full damage. The book case is toppled over, some of the shelves splintered. Books are strewn across the room, some torn apart, some just bent out of shape. There is a gash in the paint of the wall, and a broken painting at its feet. Shards of glass are littered around it and Iwaizumi immediately sets to pick those up, carefully cupping them in his hand.

He steps out of the room entirely, seeing one of the maids moving through the hall. He waves at her, spilling the shards into one of her sacks to be disposed of. 

“It’s good to see you, Iwaizumi.” She whispers with a smile. 

Iwaizumi nods, pursing his lips, “Do you know the Prince’s schedule today?” 

The maid glances at the closed chamber doors, “He has maths and history lessons today in the library. He’ll be having breakfast separately.”

Iwaizumi nods with a frown, “Thanks.”

She smiles at him, ruffles his hair and steps away to continue her sweeping. Iwaizumi slips back into the bed chambers. He pulls his leggings up, pulls his tunic back down neater, reties his sash before deciding to stop procrastinating. 

The Prince is still sleeping in his enormous bed, still cocooned. A small little lump. The word cute comes to Iwaizumi’s mind and he shakes it off.

“Prince Tooru?” 

He hears a groan from the lump as it shifts in place.

“Prince Tooru,” Iwaizumi sighs, reaching his hand out to nudge the royal’s shoulder. 

The Prince pulls back, never spilling free from his silken prison and lets out a shout, “Don’t touch me!”

Iwaizumi freezes. Right. Of course. Servants can’t just touch royalty. He should have realized. He brings his hand back down. He wonders if this is it. Any mistake could be it. The King isn’t one to stand for them, so why would his son?

“Give me a moment to collect myself.” The Prince murmurs from his spot. Not angry, it seems. A bit...distracted, if anything? Iwaizumi says nothing and waits. He watches the lump shift, as the Prince evens out his breathing and after a moment, slowly sits up. 

The sheets slip from him then, revealing his thin naked chest and unruly bedhead. Iwaizumi feels inclined to avert his eyes, but the Prince’s brown gaze holds him, “What was your name again?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“That’s a boring name.” The Prince decrees, and Iwaizumi feels his eyebrow twitch, “You need something better.”

“I don’t thin--“

“Excuse me? Who is the Prince in this room?” The Prince tuts with a teasing smile. 

Iwaizumi can’t help raising his eyebrows, squinting his eyes. 

“Oh wow! I’ve never seen so many wrinkles on a child! Did I pick an old man?” The Prince jeers. 

Iwaizumi glowers, “I’m almost 10!”

“Well, so am I!” The Prince crawls closer, “When’s your birthday?”

“June 10th.” Iwaizumi murmurs. 

“Mine’s July 20th.” The Prince grins, and Iwaizumi decides not to point out that he knew that already. That The the whole kingdom knew that. “So you’re a month older than me, but you look forty years my senior!”

Iwaizumi glares at him, “Shouldn’t you be respecting your elders then?”

The Prince blinks and lets out a little laugh, a hand coming up to cover his mouth, “Oh, you’re so cute! I like you, Iwaizumi-kun.” 

Iwaizumi feels his face redden. He rolls his eyes as the Prince continues, “But see, Iwaizumi-kun is such a long name don’t you think? Not cute at all. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t know how to respond to this. The Prince before him now so different from the one last night. So, he doesn’t respond; instead he moves on, “Today your lessons are in the library.” The Prince hums, hands gliding through his hair and tugging at his bangs. “Breakfast is being prepared for you, would you like me to draw a bath?”

“Will anyone be joining me for breakfast?” The Prince asks, with an almost sneer decorating his face. He swings his legs around to slip off the bed, heading toward the bathroom attached to his chambers. Iwaizumi follows after him. 

“Not today.” 

The Prince shrugs, seemingly unbothered, “Figures.”

Iwaizumi feels curiosity pulling at his tongue, but he bites it down. He begins drawing water for the bath, making sure it’s not too hot nor too cold. He helps the Prince out of his shorts and into the bath. He scrubs his back, a bit too roughly at first by the whine he elicits from the boy, but he gets it right eventually. 

He grabs the shampoo, but the Prince swats his hand away roughly, “No one touches my hair but me.” The Prince snaps, squeezing some oil into his own palm. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t press, taking a step back. He turns his head away to take a moment to breathe and unclench his jaw. The thought of having to deal with this every day for the rest of his foreseeable life was crushing him. It had only been a half hour and the novelty had completely worn off. 

“Rinse me off!” The command interrupts his thoughts.

_What a brat_ , Iwaizumi can’t help but think. 

Once the Prince is dry and clothed, Iwaizumi follows him out of the chambers and down the stairs to the Great Hall. The servants greet them as they go, and the Prince gives a wave or two in return. Iwaizumi keeps his head down. They enter into the dining room, one of the seats dressed and ready with a meal set out. 

The Prince takes his seat. And waits. And waits. Brown eyes glance toward green, ones, eyebrow raised. It sends a jolt through Iwaizumi’s spine as he remembers the first rule of many he had been taught about the Prince. 

_The Prince must wear gloves to every meal._

Iwaizumi scrambles to the cupboard, taking out a fresh pair and slipping them onto the Prince’s waiting hands. He feels the Prince’s smile at the top of his head but doesn’t look up, feeling foolish. 

“Sit down, Zumi-kun.”

“Excuse me?” Iwaizumi can’t help snapping. 

The Prince laughs into his gloved hand, “I agree, that one’s silly. I’m still thinking. But sit.”

Iwaizumi sits next to the Prince, putting his hands on the table, unsure what to do with himself. He glances at the Prince’s meal, a piece of toast with egg, some miso soup and juice. Iwaizumi quickly looks away, less a groan from his stomach give him away. 

“You’re hungry.”

“No, sire.”

The Prince snorts, sliding the miso soup toward his attendant, “You are a terrible liar, Iwaizumi. You should stick to honesty.”

Iwaizumi frowns, looking down at the soup, “This is for you.”

“Yes, and I hate the taste of it. I don’t care for this kind of food. Father insists I finish everything on my plate though or he throws a fit. So, you would really be helping me out if you ate some.”

Iwaizumi purses his lip. The Prince rolls his eyes, “Should I order you to?”

Iwaizumi frowns, taking the spoon. It’s the nicest spoon he’s ever seen, pure silver and freshly polished. He takes a sip of the meal and is floored. His eyes widen, and he drinks it up in desperate gulps as the taste hits his tongue. 

When he finishes he finds the Prince laughing beside him, “Were you raised in a barn? Did they not teach you table manners?” 

Iwaizumi feels his face redden and he takes the Prince’s napkin to wipe at his face. The Prince grins at him, “You’re so cute, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s face contorts in a sneer, “ No.”

“Ooh,” the Prince coos, “I like that one. It flows right off the tongue. Doesn’t it Iwa-chan?”

“I hate it,” Iwaizumi replies.

“I love it,” Oikawa decides, “And I win. Because I’m the Prince.”

“That’s not fair! You can’t just call me whatever you want!” Iwaizumi snaps, and the Prince looks surprised, eyes blinking at the outburst ass if he had never been questioned. Iwaizumi wouldn’t be surprised if that were true and for a moment, he finds himself a little nervous he’d crossed another line.

“Well, what if I let you call me something special, too?” The Prince offers and Iwaizumi’s shoulders drop in confusion.

“Huh?” 

“Prince Tooru Kageyama is a mouthful too,” the Prince murmurs, bringing a finger to his chin thoughtfully, “It’s a lot of words and you don’t seem very bright.” He ignores Iwaizumi’s loud ‘ _hey_ ’ in favor of continuing, “You can call me Oikawa.”

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi repeats, tilting his head.

The Prince smiles, leaning forward, lips brushing against Iwaizumi’s ear, “It’s my mother’s name,” he explains, and then, even softer and more conspiratorially, “Father hates it.”

Iwaizumi touches his ear, staring at the Prince who’s smile seems a tinge sad. But the boy shoves toast in his mouth, and the look is gone. Iwaizumi drops his hands back into his lap. He watches the Prince eat, carefully and controlled, not a drop spilling on him. His gloves receive not a single stain. When he finishes, he drinks up all of the juice in one big gulp and flashes a bright grin, “Iwa-chan, I have a secret assignment for you.”

“Okay?”

“Figure out a way to put a break into my schedule without making Father mad.”

“You don’t get a break?”

Oikawa blinks at him, “Aren’t you supposed to know my schedule?”

“I’m still learning.” Iwaizumi huffs, “It’s been like, a week.”

“Yeah, but you could just write it down and have it. It doesn’t change much.”

“I’m still learning how to read.” Iwaizumi murmurs, scratching his upper arm self consciously. Oikawa blinks again, pursing his lips into an ‘ _oh_ ’ shape.He pulls his gloves off, standing up from his chair with a little stretch. 

Iwaizumi stands up to, cleaning up the Prince’s place and leaving the items on a tray for the scullery maid to take care of. He follows the Prince out toward the library at the north end of the castle in a not uncomfortable silence. When they reach the doors, a man is waiting for them. Oikawa greets him with a forced smile and steps through. Iwaizumi moves to follow but the man stops him. 

“You must be the new attendant,” the man says and Iwaizumi nods, “You may go attend to your other duties. Oikawa will be in studies the rest of the day. Come collect him at sundown.”

Iwaizumi frowns, “What about lunch, sir?”

“He has that brought here. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” The man turns away, and Iwaizumi hears him ask Oikawa to turn to a certain page in his book. The Prince’s features are wiped of their seemingly usual mirth, eyes glazed over. 

Iwaizumi turns away. He steels himself and lets his mind start mulling over his new assignment. 

* * *

As the weeks go by Iwaizumi Hajime falls into an easy rhythm. He wakes up with the rooster and heads down to eat breakfast with the other servants and get the Prince’s schedule. He wakes the Prince and accompanies him throughout his day as needed. Morning breakfast together becomes a routine. Oikawa is rarely asked to dine with his parents in the morning. There is always an excuse. Mostly that Oikawa has his meal much earlier than the rest of his family, who are normally still sleeping.

Iwaizumi had suggested, more than once, to allow the Prince to sleep in a bit. But the answer is always the same. It’s His Majesty’s orders. Oikawa doesn’t seem affected much, and instead is excited to have Iwaizumi join him each morning to fill the large empty room with fun banter.

Iwaizumi is surprised how easy it is to talk to Oikawa in the morning. At one point he calls the Prince an idiot when he accidentally knocks over his glass while telling a story a bit too excitedly. He fears he’s crossed a line, but the Prince merely laughs it off and Iwaizumi can’t help but join him. 

Mornings are nice. 

Iwaizumi spends the afternoon cleaning the Prince’s chambers after his nightly episodes, helping the servants with their chores, and taking breaks to explore the grounds, adding every day to his mental map. 

Nights are hard. 

Once Oikawa is released from his task for the day he is completely drained, angry, and, to be frank, out of control. Iwaizumi hides the Prince’s valuables under his bed before evening, to prevent too much damage. But he still can’t figure out how to stop the tantrums entirely. Oikawa always orders him out of the room with such horrid desperation that Iwaizumi can’t help disappearing into his side chamber. 

Iwaizumi always tries to make sense of it at night. He can understand the Prince’s frustration. Having to overexert himself every day is grueling. He’s kept from his family almost entirely, for reasons Iwaizumi still can not comprehend and the rest of the staff refuses to question. He barely sees the King himself, or little Prince Tobio who’s always with him. Iwaizumi has never even set eyes on the Queen, but Oikawa talks of her so often that she must be real. 

But Oikawa is always so exhausted when he returns to his chambers, how can he then summon the energy to scream and destroy his room? 

He needs to confront him about it. Perhaps during breakfast. He wants to understand. 

He wants to help.

While receiving the Prince’s itinerary that morning he sees that today will not be the best day to talk at all. 

“With Father?” Oikawa echoes as he yawns into his hands, sitting at the edge of his massive bed, “Just him?”

“Yep.” Iwaizumi says, as he helps the Prince into his pants.

Oikawa hums drowsily, “It’s probably about my birthday next week.” He gets up, letting Iwaizumi button up his vest and jacket. An outfit a little dressier than usual that Iwaizumi had pulled out for the occasion. The pair walk down to the dining room, finding the King already seated at the head of the table. Iwaizumi bows deeply, before taking his place by the wall. Oikawa sits down near his father and gives a curt greeting. 

“How are you, Tooru?” The King begins, as he rips off a piece of his toast. 

Oikawa doesn’t touch his food, “I’m fine.”

“That’s good. Are you on top of your studies?”

“Yes. Riku-san says my talent with a sword is the best he’s ever seen. Tachibana-san says I’m his best pupil.”

“You’re his only pupil.” The King points out. Oikawa doesn’t seem to find it very funny, from the way his shoulders tense. Iwaizumi frowns. 

The King does not notice, continuing with a breezy tone,“I think it’s time you start learning to ride.”

“Really, Father?” Oikawa brightens.

“You’ll choose a horse from the stable tomorrow and lessons will be integrated into your schedule from then on.”

“Thank you!” Oikawa beams, instinctively letting his eyes fall on Iwaizumi who gives him a small smile. Oikawa licks his lips, and leans a bit forward, “Can Iwaizumi learn to?”

The King’s eyes glance toward Iwaizumi, and it takes all the boy’s power not to react to the imposing stare, “I suppose. He will need to learn to accompany you anyway.”

Oikawa’s grin grows brighter, and Iwaizumi can’t help his own smile on his face. He had always loved working the Sister’s horse. And being able to spend more time with Oikawa instead of being alone in the castle excited him. 

“But speaking of your attendant, it reminds me of something important.” The King begins, and Oikawa’s expression falls from his face. “He has lasted much longer than your previous attendants, but your nightly fits have only grown more horrendous.”

Oikawa glares down at the table. The King continues, “Did you think I would not notice? Do you understand how much money I’m wasting on you?”

Oikawa bites his lip, “I’m so tired, by the end, I...It just comes out. If I could just, just get a break--“

The King slams his fist onto the table, and Oikawa flinches, “The _point_ is for you to be tired! You won’t ever not be tired in your life, and you must be able to control this even then, don’t you understand?”

Oikawa squeezes his hands into fists on his lap, “I know, I know. But I’m tryin--“

“Are you? I don’t know if you are, Tooru, because I’ve seen very minimal improvement, if any at all.” The King interrupts, “Is that anyway for a Prince to act? For a King? Do you really think to ascend to the throne with this vice?” 

“Father, I’m working on it, I promise--“

“I just don’t see you overcoming this hurdle.” The King continues, “Your constitution is too weak for the task. We should look at other options. At least we have Tobio to take the -“

Oikawa’s chair screeches back with the force in which he stands up, body small but desperate. He bangs his fists on the table, tears prickling his red face, “But _I’m_ the first son! I’m the heir! Not Tobio!”

The King stands up in turn, “And is that the attitude of an heir? Sit down, Tooru.”

“No! It’s not fair, Father! Just because,because! It’s not my fault!” Oikawa insists, hysteria rising, “I hate Tobio!”

“Don’t speak ill of your brother.” The King orders.

Oikawa throws his plate to the ground in fury, “I wish he had never been born at all!”

The King glares at him, grabbing him by his shirt collar, “Tobio _saved_ this country.” He snaps, as Oikawa struggles in his grip. The King drops him, not even watching as he falls to the ground and starts sobbing at his feet. 

The King rolls his eyes, turning to Iwaizumi, “If the Prince wants a break, we’ll give him one. Cancel his lessons. Iwaizumi, he is not to leave his chambers for the rest of the day. Meals will be brought up to him. Hopefully a day of self-reflection will have him come to terms with his mistakes.”

Oikawa weeps harder at the ground, “I want to talk to Mother! Let me see Mother!” 

“She does not want to see you.” The King replies as he heads for the door. 

Oikawa watches him go, screaming out, “You are a liar! Let me see her!”

“Who would want to see you in this state?” 

The door shuts and the room is quiet, filled only by the uneven sobs and heavy breathing of a small boy on the floor.

Iwaizumi peels himself from the wall he had plastered himself too. He walks over to the Prince, “Oikawa?”

“Don’t touch me.” Oikawa orders, keeping himself huddled on the ground, “One minute.”

It’s a common order, more usual as the day goes on. Iwaizumi waits, deciding to sit on his knees beside him. He remains silent, a picture of peace if not for his straining hands, balled into fists on his thighs. 

Oikawa sits up finally, wiping at his face with his sleeve. Iwaizumi tuts his tongue, taking out his handkerchief to wipe at Oikawa’s face in turn. Oikawa lets him, hiccuping a little as he tries to calm his breathing. 

“I hate that you saw that.” Oikawa murmurs. 

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “Can I say something?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa replies. 

Iwaizumi leans forward, voice dropping low, “Your dad is the worst.”

It takes a second, for the casual words to hit Oikawa, but when they do he can’t help the laugh burbling from his chest. Iwaizumi smiles, the sound so much nicer than the awful sobs that had filled the room just minutes earlier. 

“I hate him.” Oikawa confesses, “Him and Tobio.”

“Prince Tobio is a baby. That’s not fair.” Iwaizumi admonishes as he folds up his handkerchief. 

Oikawa shrugs, not interested in debating the topic. Iwaizumi frowns, “Why does the King treat you like this?”

Oikawa sighs, and then, using his gruffest voice recites, “Because I’m a demon child.”

Iwaizumi laughs at the impression, (it’s impeccable, honestly) but shakes his head, “You’re not a demon, Oikawa.”

Oikawa snorts, keeping his gaze down. 

“I’m serious.” Iwaizumi insists, “Didn’t you say I was a bad liar?”

Oikawa smiles, peeking his brown eyes up at Iwaizumi, “Yeah...” He lifts his chin up, “Iwa-chan is being nice to me today? How rare.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, standing up and offering a hand. The Prince takes it and lifts himself up, “Come on, let’s get the day started.”

“There’s no day to start.” Oikawa moans, dragging his feet, “It’s all been cancelled.”

“Which means it’s time for my schedule to start.” Iwaizumi announces. Oikawa blinks at him, Iwaizumi just motions for him to head back to his chambers, “You told me to figure out a way to get you a break. Well, I couldn’t really figure that, but I thought up a bunch of stuff to do when you did finally get a break. And there’s a lot to get done today!”

There’s a new bounce in Oikawa’s step at the idea. They hurry into his chambers and Iwaizumi immediately shoves him into his own room. Oikawa blinks at the size of it, nudging his floor nest with his foot curiously. Iwaizumi ignores him in favor of digging out his spare uniform and throwing it at Oikawa. 

“Put those on. We’re sneaking out.” Iwaizumi explains. 

Oikawa holds the clump in his hands uselessly, “I don’t know how to take off what I’m wearing.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and helps the boy undress and redress himself in a much simpler outfit. He moves his hand to ruffle up Oikawa’s prim and proper hair only to get swatted away. Oikawa does it himself. 

Iwaizumi frowns, “Not enough...Here, wear this cap.” Oikawa squishes it on his head, and it looks little wonky but it shields Oikawa perfect features away from direct eyesight. “Good enough.” Iwaizumi announces. 

Oikawa grins at him, “Whats the plan?” 

“We’re spending the day outside. I’ll come a little before your meal times to fetch them so it seems like we’re in here. We’ll be back in before sundown.”

“I’ve never been on the grounds unsupervised.” Oikawa confesses. 

“You live here.” Iwaizumi reminds.

Oikawa laughs, “Come on! Let’s go! I’m excited!”

Iwaizumi nods, “We’ll take the servant’s exit. Follow me and don’t talk.” 

As expected, the servant’s quarters are deserted at this hour, and they weave through the halls undetected before spilling out into the bright morning light.

“Where is everyone?” Oikawa can’t help but ask, hand holding Iwaizumi’s tightly as they run and duck under bushes to sneak around the gardeners.

“Serving your family.” Iwaizumi answers easily, and Oikawa feels a bit silly to have asked it, “No more talking.”

Iwaizumi leads them to the west end of the yard, to a piece of land mostly neglected. Bushes border the tall imperial gates, but far enough to squeeze between the two comfortably. They race down this narrow path, single file until Iwaizumi finally stops and leaps over a small hole. He turns himself around to face Oikawa before he can do the same.

“This has been _my_ secret project.” Iwaizumi whispers. Oikawa looks at the hole, unable to hide his disappointment. 

“A hole?” 

“Freedom.” Iwaizumi counters with a grin. 

Oikawa squints at him. Iwaizumi points up at the fence in turn, “This fence is huge. There’s no gaps for even us to fit through. And it’s impossible to climb. No footholds, and everyone can see you and yell at you when you try.”

“You’ve tried?”

Iwaizumi ignores him, looking back down at his handy work, “So then I thought, why not go the other way?”

Oikawa nods slowly, “Under it?”

“Yeah. Exactly.” Iwaizumi says, “So I’ve been digging here whenever I have the chance, and today’s gonna be the day.”

“We can’t fit through here.” Oikawa points out. 

“Not yet. But with two people digging we’ll get through real quick.

Oikawa frowns, “I don’t want to dig a hole.”

“Digging holes can be fun.”

“No it’s dirty. What if there’s worms?”

“That’s the fun part.”

“Gross.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, sticking his hands in to start carving out more space between the ground and fence. “Fine, you can sit while I dig, _Your Highness_.”

Oikawa pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. He watches Iwaizumi dig up the earth, face drawn in concentration. He watches as his hands fill up with dirt, particles slipping under his fingernails and staining his skin and he thinks nothing of it. 

Oikawa lifts a hand tentatively to touch the dirt, watching it sift through the gaps in his fingers. He copies Iwaizumi’s movement slowly, careful and Iwaizumi says nothing. But he smiles, a small tug of his lips, and it urges Oikawa forward, until he too is digging with both his hands. 

It doesn’t take long at all for the hole to open up and let them squeeze through. Iwaizumi goes first; Oikawa follows with a grimace. He stands up and dusts at his dirtied knees. Iwaizumi waves him off, “Remember their my clothes not yours. I’ll wash them later. Don’t worry about it.”

Oikawa purses his lips but nods, lifting his head to look around. He’d never been outside the gates unless for trips to other Kingdoms. It did not look much different, just emptier of people and wilder, untamed. 

Iwaizumi takes his hand, “Come on. I really want to check out this forest.”

“I think that’s where we hunt for deer.” Oikawa fills in. 

“Cool. Maybe we’ll see one!” Iwaizumi grins. Oikawa follows after him as they race towards the trees, slowing as the path disappears entirely beneath them. It’s replaced by gnarled roots and brush, thorny plants and thick moss covered trunks. They start picking their way carefully. Stopping to stare at bugs and birds along the way with absolute delight. 

Iwaizumi has a good eye, pointing them out first. But Oikawa knows their names, almost all of them, and recites them proudly to the air. 

It is as their climbingover a fallen tree trunk that they stumble upon a clearing. Flowers bloom along it’s edges and a deer nibbles at the ground, but upon hearing them enter, runs out for cover. The boys chalk it up for a loss but don’t mind it, sitting themselves on the trunk side by side. 

“I was born in a forest.” Oikawa says, suddenly.

“Really?” 

“It’s what my mom says.” Oikawa explains, drawing his knees up, “It was dark, and she wanted to get some air, so she took a walk. But she got lost in the woods, found a clearing like this and had me. She said she could see all the stars too. They found her in the morning with me.”

“That’s cool.” Iwaizumi responds, looking up at the sky instinctively, but it isn’t even high noon yet, so there are no stars speckled up above. “Stars are cool.”

“Yeah, they are.” Oikawa agrees, “Where were you born?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. 

“Never asked your parents?” 

“Never had parents.” 

“Oh.” Oikawa murmurs, “Right.”

“It’s ok. I don’t mind. It turned out ok.”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have parents.” Oikawa murmurs. Iwaizumi frowns at him. “But then I think of my mom. And I feel bad.”

“I’ve never met your mom.” 

“Father keeps her as busy as me.” Oikawa mutters, “He doesn’t like me seeing her.”

“But she’s your mom!”

“Yeah.” Oikawa agrees, sadly.

Iwaizumi frowns further, wrinkles forming in his forehead. Oikawa laughs at the sight, poking the offending lines and earning him a swat to the hand. He whines in turn but his smile can not be tampered down. They wrestle a little on the clearing floor, Oikawa is laughing too hard to overpower Iwaizumi, who finishes the fight by seating himself on top of the boy victoriously. 

“Get off!” Oikawa whines between giggles, weakly pushing at Iwaizumi’s chest. 

Iwaizumi smirks down at him in turn, but his eyes catch the sun and he sighs, “Lunch is soon. I should head back.”

“Ok. I’ll stay here?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

Iwaizumi returns almost an hour later between everything, with the Prince’s meal in hand. He’d had a tough time explaining how dirty he’d gotten while being locked up in a room. Luckily none of the servants had seen him until then and he simply lied that he hadn’t done his laundry yet. He’d gotten a few thwaps for presenting himself to the Prince in such a state but that was that. 

He finds the Prince lying down in the field with his eyes closed. Iwaizumi blinks a few times. He catches the glint of rocks by Oikawa’s head, but that couldn’t be comfortable and when Oikawa sits up, there’s nothing there. It must have been the glint of his earrings catching the light. 

“Here’s your lunch.” Iwaizumi offers. 

“Eat with me, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa half orders with a lazy smile. 

They have their makeshift picnic in an easy silence under the sun. It’s not enough to fill both of them, but neither complain. Because it’s the moment that matters. 

“Doing nothing is fun.” Oikawa laughs.

“Once in a while, yeah.” Iwaizumi nods. He pulls at the grass around his feet, thinking carefully about his words, “Oikawa.” Oikawa hums at him, leaning back on his palms, “Why....Why do you get like that? At night?”

Oikawa’s palms turn into fists, squeezing the grass, “It’s because I’m tired.”

“I don’t destroy rooms when I’m tired.” Iwaizumi huffs. 

Oikawa looks away, “Well, we’re not the same are we?”

“Oikawa.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Tell me.” 

“I can’t.”

Iwaizumi throws a clump of grass into the air, “Then I’ll just watch you when you do it to find out.”

The reaction is immediate. Oikawa is upon him, fingers digging into his shoulders with a strength Iwaizumi had never realized the Prince had. He winces, and Oikawa’s face is practically up against his, 

“You can’t! Iwa-chan, you can’t.”

Iwaizumi pushes him off, “Why not?”

“You have to promise me you won’t. Promise me now.” Oikawa insists, a desperate gleam in his brown eyes. 

Iwaizumi squints at him, “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa’s voice pierces his ears with its high pitched quality, “Promise me you’ll never walk in when I’m like that! I can’t lose you. Promise me!”

“Lose me? I’m not going anywhere, Oikawa.”

“Promise me!” Oikawa shouts. 

“Ok, ok. I promise. Are you crying? I’m sorry.”

“I’m not crying. I’m just. I need a moment.”

Iwaizumi watches the boy step away for a minute to lean behind a tree. His stomach swirls with apprehension. That had not gone well at all. In fact, he felt as though he had gone backwards somehow. 

* * *

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi Hajime nudges the sleeping boy, “Wake up.”

Oikawa groans from his cocoon, letting out a whine before he mutters, “Give me a moment.”

Iwaizumi gives him his minute to collect himself, waits as he sits up slowly and blinks the tiredness from his eyes. The light pouring from the window illuminates him in a soft glow.

Iwaizumi grins at him, “Happy Birthday.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen, and then he breaks out into a bright smile, “Thanks, Iwa-chan!”

“Umm, I.. I got you-“

Oikawa gasps, “You got me something?”

“Well, yeah... Uh, so I--“

“But I didn’t get you anything for your birthday!”

“It’s okay, uh, anyway, so I--“

“You have no money!”

Iwaizumi huffs, and just shoves his unwrapped gift into Oikawa’s hands. Oikawa stares at it. Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck, “I’ve been learning to wood carve when I can. One of the butlers is really good at it and is teaching me...Um, it’s..It’s not really good but it’s supposed to be a fox.”

“It’s a lump.” Oikawa whispers, looking at the wood piece carefully. 

“Shut up. If you don’t like it I’ll take it back!”

Oikawa moves the piece high above his head, “No, I want it! His name’s Lumpy-chan and I love him.” 

Iwaizumi reddens, “Give it a better name!”

“Lumpy-chan is the perfect name. Now get away, I’m gonna put him on my bookshelf.”

Iwaizumi lets out a sigh, “Well, be quick about it. We need to get you dressed. Some of your guests are already here.”

Oikawa lets out a giddy noise, “Yes! I’m so excited! Makki’s gonna be here! I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“I think he’s the one who’s already here.” Iwaizumi replies.

There’s more fervor in Oikawa’s step, “Well then hurry up and dress me! We can’t keep him waiting!”

They do keep him waiting, because Oikawa insists on looking perfect on his birthday. His morning outfit is switched out three times before he is content. He spends an eternity on his hair alone, one thing Iwaizumi is forbidden from touching so he finds himself waiting in one of the seats, bored out of his mind. 

Finally, _finally_ , Oikawa is ready to be escorted downstairs. By then more guest have filled into the hall. The King is present, greeting all the Lords and Ladies and foreign dignitaries as they come in. A few have children lingering around them, breaking off to speak with other kids. 

Oikawa makes his way to his father’s side, who gives him an acknowledging nod. Iwaizumi hangs back with all the other servants.There are many attendants here, some his age, some older, hanging back against the walls. Some have been tasked with carrying gifts. He spies one boy with a mop of unruly black hair clutching an oval gift to his chest. A cage? It’s not wrapped, simply draped with a rough piece of fabric. 

“Thank you all for coming to celebrate Tooru’s tenth birthday.” The King announces, “What a joyous occasion.” There are cheers from the crowd, “But there’s no fun to be had on an empty stomach. Please make your way to the dining room.”

The nobles head to the designated room. Iwaizumi watches Oikawa as he glances about the room frantically, probably searching for his friend. Once the guests have disappeared though, a woman pokes her head into the hall. Oikawa’s eyes latch onto her and he rushes toward her, almost tripping over himself as he clutches her leg. 

She lets out a warm laugh, so similar to the Prince’s and bends down to wrap him in a deep hug. She whispers words to him, and he squeezes her harder. They stay like that for a few moments before the woman straightens herself back up and nudges him over. 

Oikawa nods, and moves to follow the King and the nobles into the dining room. Iwaizumi moves to follow them when the woman beckons to him. He hesitates but makes his way over. 

“You must be Iwaizumi?” She whispers. 

Iwaizumi is lost in her features. Her beautiful brown eyes and slim face. Her soft brown wavy curls that frame her face and the beautiful glittering crown adorned on her head. She’s Oikawa, maybe with a few extra eyelashes. 

“Yes.” He whispers back, and then quickly add, “Your Majesty.”

She smiles at him, ruffling his hair, “You’re doing a wonderful job.”

Iwaizumi’s heart swells. 

“Keep looking after him. He needs it.”

Iwaizumi nods, but can’t help the words spilling out, “Prince Tooru is strong too.”

She smiles again, a bit pained, “I know.”

Iwaizumi realizes he could have picked better words, “That’s not-- He doesn’t mean, to do that. He’s just tired.” He vomits out, tugging at his tunic, “He’s not a monster.”

The Queen seems taken aback by this, but catches herself, “Yes.” She replies, “He’s not a monster.”

Iwaizumi nods at her. 

The Queen stands up, “I won’t keep you from your duties any longer.”

He bows before scurrying back over and slipping into the dining hall. He had never been in a room filled with so many nobles. But also, with so many attendants. There are boys and girls his age, pressed against the walls and he is curious of their stories. Out of the nobles gathered, he could pick out only one with certainty. Lord Hanamaki sits by his young son, who Iwaizumi remembers is around his age. Oikawa is sitting at the head of the table beside his father.

The servants start bringing in the breakfast banquet and Iwaizumi does his best not to stare at the amazing food. His stomach rumbles and he hopes the cacophony of laughing rich people will hide it. No one at the table seems to notice. But the mop headed boy beside him nudges something into his hand. 

It’s a piece of bread. 

Iwaizumi blinks at him and the mop headed boy just gives him a sleepy smile. Iwaizumi frowns, wonders if the bread was stolen. He doesn’t want to be seen as pathetic. He is the first Prince’s attendant! Accepting this felt weird. 

The mop headed boy seems to pick up on his thoughts and leans down, “My name is Matsukawa Issei.”

Iwaizumi blinks at him, whispering back, “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Your Prince Tooru’s new attendant right? He talks about you a lot in his letters to Lord Takahiro.”

Iwaizumi feels his face flame up without permission, and he focuses his gaze back on the banquet at hand. His green eyes find themselves on Oikawa’s happy face and his shoulders seem to relax. Matsukawa nudges him, “Lord Takahiro gave me some bread during the journey over. I’m sure he wouldn’t want his best friend’s attendant to go hungry either.”

Iwaizumi huffs but decides to stuff the bread in his mouth. He ignores the easy smile on the boy beside him in favor of the festivities before him. They were grandiose and kept the young Prince smiling the entire day. He worked the room with an exuberant smile, leaving every Lord and Lady charmed and all their children laughing. It was like magic. 

Iwaizumi remembers a moment during lunch when a Lord he did not recognize leaned forward to tell the King, “What a promising young Prince. Diplomacy comes so naturally to him. Aoba Johsai is in good hands.” Iwaizumi remembers grinning at the complement, locking it away in his mind to be sure that Oikawa hears it. Iwaizumi remembers the King barely responding to it other than a curt nod. 

While gifts are exchanged, Lord Hanamaki and his son stand up, “We have a special gift, for the young Prince that we hope he loves.” Iwaizumi notices Matsukawa slip away from his station by his side, following another similar looking man out of the room entirely. He frowns, “It was Takahiro’s idea, and he is absolutely delighted to share it with his dear friend.”

The young Lord steps forward, grinning from ear to ear as Prince Tooru looks at him, “We have a show for you! For all of of you. But you have to go outside to see it. Follow me!” 

The crowd spills out from the dining hall into one of the outdoor courts at the bequest of the young Lord, murmuring amongst each other. Iwaizumi loses Oikawa in the crowd and lets out an annoyed sigh. But then the Prince appears beside him, camouflaged among the many people around them. 

“Iwa-chan! I feel like I’ve barely seen you all day.” The Prince whines, keeping his voice low.

“Well, I’ve been here the whole time.” Iwaizumi snorts back. Were servants that invisible?

“I wish you could sit next to me. It would be more fun.” Oikawa sighs.

“You seem to be having enough fun.” Iwaizumi counters. 

The smile on Oikawa’s face falters, “I guess.” He mumbles, “It’s just tiring after a while.”

Iwaizumi frowns, but Oikawa has left his side, slipping back into the crowd of nobles. He had been sure Oikawa was having the time of his life. Had the smile been a lie this whole time? He wishes he was as good at deciphering faces as Oikawa was.

Matsukawa and the older man are waiting for them in the court, perched on each of their thickly gloved arms is a falcon. The crowd is already delighted by the sight of the avian beasts. Iwaizumi can’t help his own gaping mouth. He wants to hold one of them. 

Lord Hanamaki speaks again, “Prince Tooru, I hope you enjoy the show put on by our expert falconer and his son.”

The falconer has his bird fly high into the air, circling the crowd and swooping low, dazzling them. He has it swing near children’s heads, earning delighted shrieks and giggles. Matsukawa sends his bird out too then, having the pair do their own form of a dance as they circle around each other in the air. 

At the end of the show the Prince is allowed to feed the birds and he is absolutely delighted. Iwaizumi longs to join him and pet the birds, but he remains firmly in place and the moment passes. The birds are put away, and the nobles gather back inside the Great Hall for their farewell. 

Oikawa once more stands beside his father, smiling out at his guests as the King gives his speech, “We thank you all for coming to celebrate Prince Tooru’s tenth birthday. Your kindness and thoughtfulness has surely been noted by the royal family. It has been a pleasure to see you all again. But before we end the festivities, I have an important announcement to make.”

There’s a murmur in the crowd. Oikawa looks up at his Father with a furrowed brow. The King does not return his look, instead smiling around the crowd, “I’m sure you have noticed we have had many important people in our midst today, and I have been overjoyed to have welcomed King Ushijima and his son to our castle. Will you both join me here?”

There are claps from the crowd as a tall imposing man makes his away beside the King. Iwaizumi feels his skin bristle at the aura that surrounds his stern face. Next to him stands his son, a practical miniature of his father, stoic face staring out into the crowd. But Iwaizumi can see his hands are balled into fists at his sides. He looks nervous. If his face wasn’t so blank Iwaizumi would think him terrified.

“It is my pleasure to announce to all of you first and foremost, the betrothal of my son to the Prince of Shiratorizawa.” 

There are gasps in the crowd and stilted claps. The Kings are all smiles. The foreign Prince is staring at the ground. Prince Tooru’s face is a painting of horror as he stares at his father, and then at the boy, and then back at his father. Heat pours into his face, flooding from his neck until his head is just one color, bright red.

“No!” He shouts, the word erupting from his throat, the force of it echoing throughout the room. He stomps his little foot, “You can’t!”

The King chuckles, brushing off the outburst like any normal ten year old tantrum, “Now Tooru, don’t cause a _scene_.” He glances over at the foreign Prince who’s silent gaze was stuck on the ground, “Look how good Prince Wakatoshi is being.”

Prince Wakatoshi looks up at his name, looks at the Seijoh prince, at the Seijoh King, then at his own father before bowing slightly, “I look forward to the wedding.” He says carefully, the words seemingly rehearsed. 

Oikawa shakes his head, “No! Father, you can’t do this!” 

There’s a murmur in the crowd, an anxious one, a question at the front of everyone’s minds. 

“I’m the first son!” Oikawa screams, “I’m the heir! I can’t go to Shiratorizawa!”

“Our continued alliance with the Kingdom of Shiratorizawa is of great importance. This is an honor that has been bestowed upon you. This is all in preparation, the wedding will happen when you’re of age, of course. We can discuss this in detail later. Now stop screaming, you’re only proving how unfit to rule you really are!”

Oikawa is trembling in fury, face a mess of hot tears and snot. The guests seem uncomfortable, some of the younger kids have started to cry in their parents’ arms. Iwaizumi stops biting his lip before he draws blood when Matsukawa touches his arm and brings him back. He lets out a breath he did not realize he was holding. 

“Look, you’ve ruined the joyous occasion with your unreasonable outburst, Tooru.” The King continues, “And you’ve tired yourself out in the process, haven’t you?” He adds, and Iwaizumi swears the smile slipping on his face is lined with cruelty.

Iwaizumi furrows his brow. He had never seen such pure fear descend upon the Prince’s face so instantaneously. His hands dart up into his hair, gripping at the strands tightly as he hunches over. His tears don’t stop, “I want to go to my room.” He hisses. 

“You need to say goodbye to your guests. This is your fault for tiring yourself out with an outlandish display. Finish your duties.”

Oikawa is shaking his head, “I have to go to my room, Father. Please, please let me go!”

Iwaizumi isn’t sure when he steps out from the wall, but he suddenly finds himself beside the Prince, taking his hands in his own. The King looks surprised at his presence, the expression mirrored by the rest of his guests. Iwaizumi swallows, feeling nervous at being the center of attention among the most powerful people in the world. 

“Prince Tooru has to go now.” He says awkwardly, giving a bow, “He’s very sorry but he needs to rest. Thank you for coming. It was really fun. The birds were really cool.”

The tension seems to ease from the room, as a few of the children giggle and some of the nobles even smile. The King blinks at him, but does nothing as Iwaizumi helps Oikawa back onto his feet and leads him up the stairs and out of sight. 

There is so much to unpack, so much to wrap his head around, but he has to push it all away. Oikawa is shaking, eyes bugged out and tripping over his own feet, “Hurry! Hurry!” He orders, desperation clawing at his throat and making him hoarse. 

Iwaizumi races through the halls, dragging the Prince behind him until they finally reach his chambers and he’s able to close the door. Oikawa has fallen to the floor, crumpled and shaking, gulping down ragged breaths. 

“Oikawa?” 

“You need to leave. Right now. Get out!” Oikawa orders. 

“I’m not leaving.” Iwaizumi says firmly, even as panic starts to burn in his chest. 

“You promised! Please, before--“

And then it happens. It starts as a flicker, as if the image of the Prince has become disjointed, distorted. Wrong. Something grips Iwaizumi’s heart, a cold hand clenching it tight in its fist. His feet burn in their sandals begging him to run. But he stays planted. 

The Prince before him is different. He is crouched, clawed fingers digging in his nest of unruly hair. Thick horns spiral out of his skull, sharp and glinting. His eyes flash out, red and furious and bright. His mouth is jammed with pointed fangs.

Iwaizumi still can’t move.

Oikawa screams, piercing Iwaizumi to the core, leaving him shaky. He sees the Prince’s muscles start rippling, and finds his own body reacting in turn. He dives out of the way of the attack, Oikawa’s body flinging to the side to slam against the wall with a loud shriek. 

Iwaizumi scrambles to stand back up, climbing atop the giant bed. His feet slip on the silken sheets and he falls onto his back. The Prince is on him in seconds, face snarling and Iwaizumi cant help the shout that claws out of his own throat.

Oikawa’s talons claw into Iwaizumi’s arms, and he lets out a cry. The Prince’s vision zeroes in on the crimson blood leaking out and in the moment of distraction Iwaizumi is able to overpower him.

He realizes, quickly, that although the Prince is unreasonably strong in this moment he is also unwieldy. All awkward boyish limbs and little control. Iwaizumi is strong too and he pushes the writhing screaming boy into the mattress, pinning him down.

He takes a moment to breathe, marveling in the fact he was able to stop a monster so relatively easily. He takes in the Prince and it cuts him. Beneath him is still a boy, his age, screaming, tears streaming down his face. Brown eyes completely lost.

Iwaizumi realizes, instantly, the source of all of the Prince’s problems, the ire of the King, the sadness of the Queen, and Oikawa’s very own words hit him. 

_Because I’m a demon child_.

But he does not only see a demon child beneath him. He also sees the lonely Prince, abandoned by the world to fend this curse off by himself. Tormented, teased and unloved. And he can’t bear the thought of it. Because the Prince is a brat, sure, but he is ten years old, and so perceptive, so smart, so _fun_. 

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says, “Oikawa, it’s ok. Everything’s ok.”

Oikawa continues his writhing, eyes wide, throat choking on words he might be incapable to form in this body. Iwaizumi has no idea.

He leans closer despite his fear, “I’m here. I’m here. It’s ok. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” He presses his forehead to the boys sweat slicked one, feels a horn clack against his skull and shudders. But he stays firm, “Or at least, we can both be scared together.”

Something breaks in the fiery gaze at those words. Limbs tremble in Iwaizumi’s hold and the Prince lets out an inhuman wail. So sad, the song of it, that Iwaizumi can’t help wrapping his arms around the boy and pulling him close.

“It’s ok.”

They lay like that for a while. The sun begins to sink below the horizon before Oikawa’s breathing regains any semblance of normalcy, before his tight grip is no longer painful, before his horns seem to vanish into thin air, and the boy Iwaizumi had known, returns. 

Oikawa shudders, wiping at his face and trying to breathe deeply. He sits up carefully, pulling away from Iwaizumito pull at his hair. It’s a nervous habit Iwaizumi had noticed. He sits up as well, waiting. 

“I’m sorry.” Oikawa murmurs, and his voice is barely above a whisper, and even that effort seems to wind him as he sags. Head resting against his shoulder, eyes exhausted. 

“It’s ok.” Iwaizumi responds with a shrug, scratching at the back of his neck. His upper arms sting from claw marks but none are very deep. 

“It’s not.” Oikawa snaps, eyes closing, “I hurt you. And now you’re afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” 

The Prince stands up on the bed in a sudden bout of energy, “How! How can you not be afraid of me? You saw me! You saw what I am!” He steps right into Iwaizumi’s face, but Iwaizumi does not back down. He thinks back to the little boy from all those months ago, who kept his chin up no matter the treatment he was dealt. Like pride was all he had to hold onto in the world he was cast in. 

“Is this why the King hurts you? Because of your curse?”

The Prince blinks and then barks out a laugh, slipping back onto his knees to be at Iwaizumi’s level, or maybe because his legs could no longer support him, “Curse? You think I’m cursed?” He threads his fingers through his hair and Iwaizumi notices for the first time how his hands curve oddly down as if to dodge a pair of horns. But they weren’t there, so why?

“Oh dear, sweet, naive Iwa-chan,” The Prince croons almost cruelly, “I’m not cursed, unless being born at all is some kind of curse itself. I just _am_. Demon blood runs through my veins and makes me half of who I am. Father only loves that which he owns, and I am the one thing that can never truly be his.”

Iwaizumi feels a bit sick to his stomach, “But you look--”

There’s a flicker again in the image of the Prince, but more calculated. He sits before him, thick spiraling horns sprouting from his nestle of hair, nails sharp and long, thin spaded tail - he hadn’t noticed before - swinging back and forth behind him. 

“You shouldn’t believe everything you see.” Oikawa remarks, sharp teeth glinting as he speaks, “Do you still stand by what you said? Even now when you know the truth?” He leans even further, face dangerously close to Iwaizumi’s neck, hot breath tingly the skin, “When you know I’m a monster?”

Iwaizumi can’t help but to turn his face to the side, skin prickling at the contact, but he remains resolute, “You mask yourself with magic? All day? Every day? Is that why you come home exhausted? How do you do it?”

Oikawa blinks at the questions, pulling back. Iwaizumi can tell in that moment, when the shields surrounding brown eyes drop in shock, that no one has ever taken an interest in the Prince’s daily struggles. That a cruel man had enforced a certain code of standards, had constantly tested and given no validation for any improvement. That the Prince had been left to sink or swim. There was no hand to help him out of the deep water, just one pushing his head down. 

“I do,” The Prince says, and it is a shaky statement, “It takes up most of my concentration. It took me years to get to where I’m at. Father would not let me out of my room until I could hold a human image for longer than an hour.”

“When was that?”

“When I turned five.” 

“You’re incredible.” Iwaizumi breathes and he means it, wholeheartedly. 

The Prince’s pale face seems to color, face skewing up as if he’d tasted something sour. Iwaizumi can’t help the laugh that bubbles from his chest at the sigh, and soon Oikawa is laughing with him, exhaling the tension with each mirthful sound. 

“Can I touch them?” Iwaizumi asks, curiously, as they calm down. 

“If you want.” Oikawa leans his head over, and Iwaizumi runs his fingers over the horns, feels the ridges, tugs once (which earns him an indignant squawk). 

“They’re cool.” Iwaizumi decides. 

Oikawa laughs, though it comes out bitter this time, “I think you’re the only one who thinks that.” He says, looking out the window, “Father has always wanted me gone. Wanted me to mess up so he could get rid of me. But now he’s really done it.” 

Oikawa hangs his head, looking down at his hands and his silken sheets, “He’s sold me off to Shiratorizawa.” He sighs, tiny droplets sprinkling on his sheets. 

Iwaizumi squeezes his shoulder.

A silent promise.

_I’m here._

Oikawa wipes his eyes, and the moment passes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnnd welcome to my new multific! My challenge : WRITE LONG CHAPTERS FOR ONCE
> 
> let me know what you think so far.


	2. Part II - Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi feels winded, again, by the admiration for his Prince that takes hold of him. It’s a feeling that springs up on him at times, more often than not, growing more powerful each day.

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi Hajime calls, voice tinged with annoyance as he kicks his horse faster. He can hear the distant laugh of the first Prince of Aoba Johsai egging him on. He grits his teeth.

“Catch me if you can, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sings, having his horse dash out expertly through the trees. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and follows close behind, equally as skilled. Hoof beats tear up the dirt path, mere seconds apart from each other, winding through trees, leaping over roots and dodging around rocks. The air is filled with horses breath and beautiful princely laughter. Iwaizumi would deny joining him in his laughter, but his face is a painting of carefree joy as the breeze blows on his face and courses through his short hair.

Oikawa is finally forced to halt his ride when he comes up to an incredibly dense patch of forest. He pulls on his reigns, letting out another laugh. He turns his horse around as Iwaizumi comes to stop in front of him and he raises his hands in surrender.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “Come on, we need to start packing.”

“I don’t even want to go.” Oikawa whines, sinking into his saddle dramatically, the complete mood shift making Iwaizumi’s eye twitch, “Especially if Father’s coming.”

“He’ll only come as far as Karasuno, it won’t be that bad.” Iwaizumi assures, turning his own horse around, “So stop whining. Come on, it’s your grand debut.”

Oikawa snorts, “What a stupid tradition.” He brings his horse to a walk, heading out of the forest with Iwaizumi by his side, “Sending fourteen year olds to neighboring kingdoms just to watch them suffer.”

“It’s practice,” Iwaizumi says, his tone a tad defensive.

“Who’s side are you on?” Oikawa whines.

“Definitely not yours,” Iwaizumi smirks, “Plus, it’s my first time visiting these places.”

“Who says you’re coming? I think I’ll have you replaced, you’ve been so mean to me all this time.”

Iwaizumi punches his arm weakly, “Everyday I long to be granted freedom from dealing with your bullshit.”

Oikawa laughs, sincerely, “You’re so cute, Iwa-chan,” he murmurs, flicking his tail at his face. Iwaizumi swats it away, feeling his face redden at the complement and touch.

They ride back into the castle grounds, leaving their horses in their stables and making their way into the Great Hall. The servants are in a rush, packing last minute gifts, clothing and supplies. Iwaizumi dips away to help them, but Oikawa follows after him, talking to the servants.

Iwaizumi helps load the wagon, noting where everything is being stored. Once the wagon is stocked he heads up the steps, dragging the Prince right behind him and shoving him into his bed chambers.

“Pull out all the stuff you want to bring. And don’t take all day.”

“Yes, yes, I know! You’re no fun when you’re stressed.” Oikawa sighs, flinging open his wardrobe to dig around his clothing options, “While I’m picking stuff out, write this down, alright?”

Iwaizumi sighs, sitting down at the desk chair and pulling out a sheet of parchment, “Ready.”

“Aki Reina, a new scullery maid apprenticing under Ahana. Straight black hair, brown eyes, a mole near her nose to the left. Soft voice. Loves apples.”

“This is so creepy.” Iwaizumi groans, writing the information down dutifully regardless.

Oikawa throws another outfit onto the bed, “Information gathering is not creepy. It’s necessary.”

“Nothing you do is necessary.” Iwaizumi retorts, corking the inkwell shut.

“Hold on, I have a letter I need you to write.” Oikawa calls at the noise, and Iwaizumi lets out a sigh as he ready’s himself, popping it open again.

“Ready.”

“Dearest Makki-chan--“

“I am _not_ writing to Lord Takahiro.” Iwaizumi snaps, dropping his pen down, “My hand writing is crap and you know it.”

“Don’t be self conscious, Iwa-chan. Come on, it’s a short one.” Iwaizumi groans but lifts his pen again, waiting. Oikawa smiles, “Dearest Makki-chan, I hope you are doing well! I for one have been assigned the arduous task of introducing myself to every royal family bordering us due to an archaic tradition, that neglects the fact it is all such a pointless endeavor, especially when given the fact of my specific circumstance, that, as you unfortunately bore witness to, the King has sold me out to another Kingdom, making my ascendency impossible and my place at diplomatic tables moot, and given this context I’m sure you can readily agree of just the kind of farce my life has unfortunately become. All this to say, please do kindly send me letters these next few weeks, for I will surely be in need of the entertainment. With love, Prince Tooru.

“Did you get all that?” Oikawa asks once he’s finished reciting.

“Of course not!” Iwaizumi snaps.

“It was three sentences!”

“I couldn’t spell half of the words you were spewing out of your mouth.” Iwaizumi grumbles, crossing his arms. He hopes the anger in his voice hides his embarassment, “Write your own damn letter, I’ll pack your clothes.”

They switch posts, working in tandem at their tasks until the Prince is fully packed, and the letter written and sent. While sending it off through one of Matsukawa’s messenger birds, Iwaizumi is given his own message from a butler.

“Where’s your dinner outfit?” Iwaizumi asks, as he hurries back into the room.

“Packed, why?” Oikawa responds, putting down the pawn he’d been moving on the chess board.

“You’re dining with your family, now.”

Oikawa groans, sinking further into his seat, “Must I?”

Iwaizumi digs out the outfit, laying it on the bed and turning to the Prince. Oikawa stands up with a sigh, holding his arms out as Iwaizumi frees him from his garments in favor of a new, fancier outfit, “We’ll be gone for a while. They want to see you.”

Oikawa snorts, “I’m going for mom.”

“Prince Tobio’s going to miss you.” Iwaizumi reminds, helping the Prince with his cuffs.

“Good. I hope he drowns in his tears while I’m gone.” Oikawa spits out.

Iwaizumi glares at him, pinching his arm hard enough to earn a pained squeak, “Don’t talk like that, come on.”

“He’s the worst, Iwa-chan. He’s got dead fish eyes and he copies my every move. Oh, and, did you forget? He’s stealing the Kingdom from me.”

“He’s just a kid who wants to be like you. And you can’t blame _him_ for all that.”

“I hate him.”

“No, you don’t,” Iwaizumi insists. He takes a step back, “Sit down so I can do your hair,” He orders, and the Prince acquiesces with a sigh, closing his eyes as Iwaizumi carefully brushes his hair. It had taken him weeks to learn the exact process, to understand which hairs are swept which direction, to master how to avoid horns sprouting in his way.

“He’s going to make a terrible king. Prodigy my ass,” Oikawa glowers as he is brushed, eyes closed.

“He’s like, nine years old. All nine year olds make terrible kings.”

“Whatever, why are we still talking about him? Come on, let’s just get this dinner over with.”

The pair descend down the steps, through the Great Hall into the dining room. Oikawa makes his way into his seat beside his younger brother, across from the King and Queen. Iwaizumi helps him into his gloves before taking his place by the wall. He stands beside Prince Tobio’s new attendant, a young boy with tall spiky hair.

Iwaizumi nods at him, and the boy waves awkwardly back, face reddening at the attention. He must be nervous, Iwaizumi thinks.

“Tooru, it’s nice of you to join us.” The King says, as he cuts his chicken breast.

“It’s nice of you to invite me.” Oikawa spits back, taking a sip of his wine.

“Tooru, are you all packed?” The Queen cuts in, before the fight could escalate any further.

Oikawa nods, “Iwa-chan and I just finished.”

“Are you excited for your trip?” She continues with a smile.

Oikawa purses his lips, taking his fork in his gloved hand and stabbing it into his food, “I guess.”

“It’s an important trip.” The King reminds, “You’ll be the face of Aoba Johsai.”

“It’s for the best, then. I’m the prettiest face we’ve got.” He smirks, tilting his head slightly and batting his eyes. The King does not seem impressed, but the Queen can’t hold back her giggle.

(Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face.)

“You have to take this seriously.”

“I _am_ taking it seriously.” Oikawa groans, sinking into his chair, “Maybe I’d take it _more_ seriously--if that’s even possible because I’m definitely taking it seriously--if I wasn’t being shipped to another kingdom in a few years never to see the light of day.”

“Tooru, we are done talking about this.”

“Tooru, at least give it a chance. Prince Wakatoshi is a sweet boy, and Shiratorizawa is a powerful nation to have on her side.”

“Powerful but inelegant. And Ushiwaka is so boring! All he ever talks about is his stupid farming policy he helped his father implement.”

“Tooru, this discussion is over. Now eat.”

Oikawa stands up, peeling his gloves off and throwing them at his meal, “I’ve lost my appetite,” he announces, bumping his leg on the table as he turns away. His silverware rolls to the ground and Prince Tobio picks up the fork, “Wait! You’re leaving in the morning!”

Oikawa pauses, shoulders sagging as he turns back around to face his little brother, “Yes, Tobio, I’m leaving tomorrow. We’ve known this for weeks.”

“Will you bring me something back?” The boy asks, his arms waving as he speaks because he’s too awkward to know what to do with them otherwise. Oikawa watches the silver fork flying about the air cautiously.

“No,” he answers easily, “Too busy. I have to take all of this very seriously, don’t you ever listen?”

Prince Tobio blinks at him, “Ok. Will you bring me something next time?”

“No.”

“Ok. What about the time after that?”

“Goodbye Tobio.” Oikawa responds instead, “I’m going to bed.”

He leaves the dining room, and Iwaizumi means to follow but pauses in front of the youngest prince, “He just wants your gifts to be a surprise. We’ll bring you something, don’t worry.” He offers, but Prince Tobio’s expression doesn’t change. Eyes big and wide, blinking up at him.

It _is_ unnerving. And they do look like fish eyes, Iwaizumi hates to admit. He quickly bows to the royal family before following after his own Prince. He finds him climbing the stairs, and he falls in step with him easily enough. They make it back to the Prince’s chamber in silence, before Oikawa collapses into his chair.

Iwaizumi digs in his wardrobe for his pajamas, laying them out on the bed before turning back to Oikawa, “Will you relax?”

“I am relaxed.”

“Your claws are ruining the arms of your chair.”

Oikawa flicks his tail in annoyance, gritting his sharp teeth, “What if I just, don’t come back? Just. Just leave.”

“Oikawa.”

“That’s what he wants. What he wants me to do, that is. Disappear. Then his problem is gone.”

“Do you want to give him what he wants? Stand up so I can dress you.”

Oikawa stands up obediently, “Of course not.”

“Well, there’s your answer.” Iwaizumi replies, unbuttoning his shirt, “Stop thinking about it. Here, let me quiz you.”

Oikawa sighs, arms drooping, “Ok.”

“Hamacho Dayu.”

“He’s the head gardner. His favorite flowers are lilies. He has a wife and two kids younger than Tobio.”

“Aizawa Sumiko.”

“Um, hold on. Uh, she’s, oh, she’s the blonde! The, uh, cook’s apprentice! Who’s father is a butcher in town, yes.”

Iwaizumi helps Oikawa put on his slip over his horns, “Futakuchi Kenji.”

Oikawa opens his mouth and then narrows his eyes, “You tried to trick me! _He’s_ the first Prince of Datekou.”

Iwaizumi smiles, “Just keeping you on your toes.” He straightens back up once he is finished, “Want another one?”

“No, I’m tired,” Oikawa yawns, crawling onto his bed. He lies down, raising his arms up and making grabbing motions with his hands, “Come, come Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, slipping out of his tunic and folding it neatly on the ground, “You are so annoying, you know that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Oikawa teases, “Did you want to sleep on your floor? Go right ahead.”

Iwaizumi huffs, crawling in beside the Prince because it’s true. But not completely, because he honestly _does_ like sleeping next to Oikawa, who might as well be a human campfire, keeping him warm all night. He doesn’t remember the last time he spent the night in his own room. Years ago probably.

Oikawa nuzzles in close to him, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi’s, “Iwa-chan, I have a new assignment for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Help me find the library at every castle we visit. I want to look for books on demons.”

“Ok.”

“So I can learn how to put curses on my enemies.”

“Go to bed, Oikawa.”

* * *

 

“Father, I can’t believe this! This is supposed to be _my_ debut, and you bring that brat along?”

“Tooru, you’ve caught quite the snake tongue lately. Or have you always had it? Let me guess, you’re tired? Do you need to sit out of this meeting? If you wish I can cancel the rest of your stops and let you spend the summer convalescing at the Shiratorizawa castle.”

Oikawa bristles, his mouth a thin line, but he remains silent as they step off their mounts in front of the castle doors. Iwaizumi helps unload the Prince’s baggage, handing Kindaichi--he had finally learned Prince Tobio’s new attendant’s name--the lightest to carry.

A tall man dressed in Karasuno’s colors, black and orange, greets them at the doors. His brown hair is tied in a loose bun and his hands seem to shake as he greets them. Oikawa smiles at him, as they pass through and are finally greeted by the Kings of Karasuno.

“Welcome, Prince Tooru, to the Kingdom of Karasuno, it is a pleasure to be hosting you as you traverse the lands. We are honored to be your first stop.” The black haired King greets with a deep bow. Iwaizumi knows, from drilling Oikawa constantly, that it’s King Sugawara Daichi.

He tries to remember Karasuno’s history. He knows the Kingdom had been on it’s last legs only a decade ago. It was from a myriad a problems. A long standing war with the neighboring Kingdom of Nekoma, unrest in the countryside, bankruptcy and distrust of the royals had all but manifested in a coup d’etat.

Iwaizumi can’t really remember the resolution. He knows it has to do with the previous King abdicating to his son, King Sugawara Koshi, and him marrying a commoner, the man speaking to Oikawa now. But more must have happened too. He’ll have to ask Oikawa about it tonight.

“Oh, you’ve brought Prince Tobio!” King Koshi, the silver haired king, exclaims, smiling down at the young boy holding his father’s hand, “What a wonderful surprise!”

“I thought he deserved a little head start.” The King chuckles.

“Well, do come in, we can talk in the dining room. Tanaka!” A bald servant, probably around Iwaizumi’s age, hurries over, “Could you take Prince Tobio to where Shouyou is? I’m sure he’ll have much more fun spending time with someone his age.”

Iwaizumi follows the royals into the dining room, leaving Kindaichi to follow after Tobio nervously. He takes his place against the wall. He finds Karasuno’s architecture quite gloomy, all dark colors and little decoration. The castle is definitely in need of some renovating. He notices a cobweb in the left corner of the ceiling. Not a good first impression. He wonders what kind of spider lived there.

His green eyes shift back down to where the royals are seated. There’s an array of snacks on the table that make Iwaizumi’s mouth water, but years of watching others eat before him had trained him to hide it. His eyes cling to Karasuno’s signature cuisine, meat buns, which feature heavily in the buffet.

Iwaizumi wonders if he’ll be able to try any before they leave. He’ll have to make Oikawa share with him at some point. He watches the royals converse in idle pleasantries, nibbling from the spread. But then Iwaizumi sees it, sees the calculating glint in Oikawa’s eyes, sees his smile stretch a bit too far, and he feels himself shudder.

Oikawa, the Demon Diplomat, has arrived.

(Oikawa hates him when he calls him that, for obvious reasons. Iwaizumi still thinks it’s pretty funny.)

“You’ve both done such a marvelous job these past few years.” Oikawa comments with a sigh, eyes sweeping along the room before resting on the Kings.

“Why thank you, it has been difficult, but we are incredibly proud of how far we have come,” King Daichi nods.

“Indeed,” Oikawa readily agrees, dabbing his mouth with his handkerchief, “I wonder just how high Karasuno can fly? It would be a shame for your wings were to be clipped too soon.”

The Karasuno Kings frown, “And why would they?”

Oikawa is undeterred from the sudden tension in the air, dancing his way through the conversation with ease, “Well, I’ve heard tensions with Nekoma are rising again.”

“Old tensions never really die.” King Koshi supplies, smile forced on his face.

“Of course, but we wouldn’t want to repeat the past, would we? We wouldn’t want to start a war over another strip of worthless land now would we? What did the people call that war again?”

The Kings share a glance, but King Koshi steels himself, “Battle at the Garbage Dump.”

“People can be so cruel.” Oikawa sighs, taking a bite of his meat bun, “Nekoma is restless still, and as powerful as ever, I’m sure you’ve noticed?”

“What are you proposing?” King Daichi asks, eyes narrowing.

“I believe it’s time we open up a trade route, the profits of which would be beneficial to both our countries. The people of Karasuno love fish, don’t they? How dreadful to be a landlocked nation at times. Their only option is to turn to Nekoma’s markets, which only helps fund them. What I propose is a trade agreement in which Karasuno trades exclusively with us, and has full access to our sea imports. In exchange we receive access to your famed crow feathered quills.”

The Kings share another thoughtful glance, taking the piece of paper to their side of the table to skim over. Oikawa folds his hands. Iwaizumi feels a swell in his chest.

King Daichi speaks up first, “We’ll have to think this over.”

“Of course,” Oikawa agrees, “That’s why I have brought it up now rather than later. Best to mull these things over for a few days.” He smiles and the Kings before him seem to visibly relax, “I’ll leave you to your discussions. I’m terribly tired from the long journey, and should retire for the evening. Father, are you coming with me?”

The King of Aoba Johsai nods, face grim, and follows his son out of the room. Oikawa pauses at the door, a moment longer, to say one last thing, “The best thing Karasuno can do in the face of the northern threats of Nekoma and their allies in Fukurodani, is to grow closer to the Miyagi continent. Aoba Johsai would love to open the doors to these friendships. I hope you take my plan into consideration. I am excited to learn more of Karasuno culture during the rest of my stay.”

As they walk down the hall, Iwaizumi can’t help but clap Oikawa’s back with pride. Oikawa grins at him, sticking his tongue out. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, nudging his shoulder with his own. Oikawa stifles a giggle and waves him away, lest his Father call him out.

As they turn the corner they bump into a frantic Kindaichi, pale in the face, “Oh, sire! Please, I can’t get them to stop!“

“Is something wrong? Where’s Tobio?” The King asks, his first words in a while. He had been tense the entire meeting.

Kindaichi leads them out to the court where the servant from earlier and another shorter one are attempting to separate two screaming nine year olds from tearing each other’s hair out.

“Tobio!” The King roars, and Prince Tobio falls limp, fingers no longer clawing at Prince Shouyou’s arms. The ginger beneath him scrambles back, spitting out a few more taunts before the two servants can get a hold of him as well.

The taunts are too tantalizing though, and Prince Tobio fires up, “No, you’re an idiot, idiot!”

“Tobio!” The King shouts again, snatching his son’s arm and pulling him away.

“Amazing.” Oikawa half laughs, “Tobio wants to start a war.”

Iwaizumi covers his mouth to hide his snort.

The King shoots them a look, fingers tightening around the young Prince’s arm, “We will be taking our leave now rather than in the morning. Kindaichi, go get the horses ready. Tooru, I will see you in a few weeks.”

“Unfortunately,” Oikawa agrees with a biting smile.

The King glares at him, in one of his rare moments of pure open fury, but he says nothing as he leaves, dragging a frightened Prince Tobio after him.

“You’re pushing it a lot lately.” Iwaizumi comments as he helps undress Oikawa later that evening.

After apologizing for the squabble, they had spent the day touring the castle grounds. Now, in the safety of his private guest chamber, Oikawa seems subdued, tired from the day and quiet. His shields are low as he speaks, “Why not? There’s nothing else he can take from me now.”

Iwaizumi frowns. Oikawa pokes his wrinkly forehead, earning a scolding look. He grins, “He’s gone now. So let’s stop talking about him. Quiz me.”

Iwaizumi sighs as he slips into his own pajamas, “Kunimi Akira.”

“Tobio’s old attendant who quit. He helps with the horses now, planning to join the knights.” Oikawa responds as he slips into the bed.

Iwaizumi crawls over to him, “Watari Shinji.”

“Oh! He’s the new trainee that destroyed part of the barracks during a fight.”

“No, that was Kyoutani Kentarou. How could you mistake that?”

“Who’s Watari then?”

“Uh, I think he’ the groundskeeper’s son. Knows where everything is at all times.”

Oikawa nods, snuggling a bit closer.“You know,” Iwaizumi says, to the darkness, “You don’t have to do this. No one expects you to know every single person in the castle.”

“Well, I want to.” Oikawa replies petulantly, “Who knows what resources we have at our disposable if we don’t make an effort?”

Iwaizumi feels winded, again, by the admiration for his Prince that takes hold of him. It’s a feeling that springs up on him at times, more often than not, growing more powerful each day. Regrettably, it makes him slip up, “You were amazing today.”

Oikawa sits up, eyes shining unnaturally in the light, his movement too fast that his one horn knocks into Iwaizumi’s chin painfully. He groans, but Oikawa has no time for it, “Did Iwa-chan just complement me? Without prompting? Say it again!”

“You’re hearing things.”

“Say it again!”

“Must be the ghosts of Karasuno’s past mistakes haunting you, I didn’t hear shit.”

Oikawa laughs, swatting Iwaizumi’s chest, “Oh, and they say I have a snake tongue.”

“Is your tongue actually forked?”

“No!”

“Are you sure!”

“Of course I’m sure! I’ve had it fourteen years.”

“Are you checking right now?”

“Got to bed, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi chuckles, rolling over and pressing his face into his pillow. But before he slips into his dreams, a memory jolts him awake and he sits up, “Wait, Oikawa. Hold on.”

“What?” Oikawa asks, yawning into his hand but peering up at him curiously.

“Smuggle me one of those meat buns tomorrow. I want to try it.”

“You know you could get your head shaved for that here.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know. I don’t live here.”

Iwaizumi swats him with his pillow, “You definitely know. You stayed up all night reading everything on Karasuno this past week. Is it true?”

“Stop hitting me! I’ll get you your stupid meat bun. Now go to sleep, I have to represent our Kingdom tomorrow all by myself.”

“We’re doomed.” Iwaizumi breathes into the air with a mournful sound. Oikawa jabs his side.

“Iwa-chan is very talkative tonight. What a shame he uses it to spout out terrible lies.”

“Alright, I’m sleeping. Good night, _Your Highness_.”

“Good night, _minion_.”

* * *

“Woah.” Iwaizumi breathes out.

Oikawa smiles smugly, slowing his horse to a stop at the castle gates. He looks over at Iwaizumi’s gaping face, “Paintings don’t give it justice do they?”

The Kingdom of Datekou’s castle looms above them, formidable in its stone architecture, a veritable fortress on a hill. From their spot at the bottom, still far, they can see the green and white flags billow in the breeze around it. But the castle itself is not what makes Iwaizumi gasp, but the walls surrounding the entire castle grounds.

Tall, thick, impenetrable and reaching higher then he’s ever seen. Do they really stretch all the way around like this? Iwaizumi gets off his horse, holding her by the reigns as he walks over to touch the stone work. He runs his fingers along the textured surface, marveling at the impressive handiwork.

“I want to climb it.” Iwaizumi murmurs, staring up at the top of the structure. It must be twice as tall as Aoba Johsai’s fence, maybe more.

Oikawa snorts, “You would need a ladder. I hear it extends downwards a few feet into the ground too.” Iwaizumi looks down, fingers twitching at his sides. Oikawa rolls his eyes, “Iwa-chan please refrain from digging up our neighbor’s yard, you might cause an international incident.”

Iwaizumi huffs, returning to his mount obediently after one last look at the wall.

Oikawa brings his horse back to a walk as they enter the grounds. Iwaizumi keeps in pace, looking around the manicured lawns. He glances back to make sure their entourage of guards and servants have all made it through the gate.

As they climb the hill, a young man greets them with a deep bow, “Welcome, Prince Tooru, to the Kingdom of Datekou. The Queen is very excited to speak with you. Please follow me, we will help your servants move your things into your quarters.”

Oikawa thanks the short man, “And what is your name?”

“Moniwa Kaname.” The servant responds, a bit surprised.

Oikawa smiles at him, “Lead the way, Moniwa.”

Moniwa looks a bit unsettled but nods, nervously turning away to lead them into the fortress, “Of course, follow me.”

Oikawa glances back at Iwaizumi, eyes darting toward Moniwa, and then back. Iwaizumi sighs, digging up a piece of paper and charcoal that he keeps on his person, scrawling down the name to add to the pile. Oikawa flashes him a quick grin, before setting his face into his princely smile and turning back to the Great Hall.

The Queen greets them warmly at the steps. Oikawa kisses her hand, laying on his charms expertly. She smiles at him. Iwaizumi bows deeply and she doesn’t spare him a glance, keeping her eyes on the foreign prince, “It is a pleasure to have you here in my court. Kenji! Come meet Prince Tooru.”

A boy trudges over from the corner of the room, looking both bored and aggravated. Iwaizumi guesses he’s just a tad bit younger then them, maybe twelve? The way he slouches, Iwaizumi wonders how the tiara doesn’t slip straight off his head. He straightens when he reaches them, crossing his arms and raising his brow.

“So this is the prettiest prince in all of the lands, huh?” Kenji mutters, unimpressed.

Oikawa’s smile is tight.

The Queen admonishes him, “Kenji, Prince Tooru is on his debut trip. You might want to learn from him, your trip isn’t too far from now either.”

Prince Futakuchi Kenji rolls his eyes, “He probably doesn’t even know how to lay bricks. His hands are so dainty.”

“Kenji!”

“It’s alright, Your Highness,” Oikawa assures, “Kids will be kids. Prince Kenji, do you help lay down the stones for your beautiful walls?”

Prince Kenji purses his lips, “No, but I supervise the masons.”

“I would love to watch them work sometime while we’re here. In fact, we had to stop on our way up to marvel at your guarding wall! Quite the feat of human ingenuity.”

Iwaizumi does not know how Oikawa does it, how he brings out the passion in people and manipulates their moods to his whim. A part of him thinks its magic, but another part knows it’s just Oikawa doing what Oikawa does best. Because Oikawa _is_ magic. In more ways than one.

“Come,” the Queen interrupts with a smile, “Why don’t we talk in the dining room? Kenji, you should join us as well.”

“Fine,” The foreign Prince sighs. 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa follow the royals out of the Great Hall, into a large hallway. Iwaizumi marvels at the castle, each wall carved with incredibly detailed patterns. He longs to run his fingers along them, but he keeps his hands at his sides.

“Oh,” the Queen says, as they reach the entryway to the dining room. Her eyes have finally taken in Iwaizumi’s presence, “You should dismiss your servant.”

Iwaizumi blinks. Oikawa smiles, “Iwaizumi is my personal attendant. He’s supposed to stay with me at all times.”

“Oh, yes, I remember. A custom in Aoba Johsai,” the Queen nods slowly.

“That’s so weird,” Prince Kenji mutters.

“We like to keep important matters private here,” the Queen explains, and her eyes seem a bit too stern on Iwaizumi’s face. Apprehensive. Distrustful.

“I do not wish to impose. Iwaizumi, you are dismissed. I will check in with you again when I retire,” Oikawa orders, barely sparing him a glance.

Iwaizumi hides his clenched teeth through a neutral expression, giving him a bow, “As you wish, sire.”

Iwaizumi leaves the entryway, leaves the Great Hall, leaves the castle entirely. He walks, hands balled into fists until he reaches one edge of the grand wall. It’s even more formidable far from the gate, no gaps for even light to pass through it.

He kicks it. Longs to open up a crack and let the sun poor in, let everything in. _Let him in_.

Sometimes, Iwaizumi forgets.

He forgets where he stands in this world. A poor orphan boy spit on by society. Not meant for such luxury. Never meant for it. He was supposed to be a knight after all, or a farmer. Never an attendant.

He pulls at his tunic in frustration. A costume. No matter how hard one scrubs the grime of poverty does not come off him. He will always be a servant boy, forgotten in the corner, and not worth acknowledging. Not worth including. Worth nothing. Worthless. He kicks the wall again.

A hand rests on his shoulder, forcing him to whirl around. Another teen stands before him, tall, with a terrifying face. No eyebrows and an unflinching stare. Iwaizumi swallows.

“What?” he asks.

The white haired teen points at the wall where Iwaizumi had been kicking, “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” Iwaizumi mutters, kicking at the ground instead.

The teen nods, content with the apology and walks away. Iwaizumi watches him go, mussing his lip. He glances at the castle, at Oikawa, working his magic. He glances back at the retreating teen and lets out a sigh before trotting after him.

“What’s your name?” he asks, as he falls into step beside him.

The teen does not seem surprised by his presence, or at least his features do not change, “Aone Takanobu.”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” Iwaizumi supplies. Aone nods, “I’m from Aoba Johsai.” Aone gives another nod, turning left on the path. Iwaizumi follows.

He finds himself by a destroyed flower bed, the stones scattered around, somehow torn from their home in the dirt. A pile had been started, an attempt to regroup them from the ground.

“What happened?” Iwaizumi asks.

Aone crouches down to lift a rock and move it to the pile, “First year mason.”

“Ah, a klutz huh? Not meant to be?” Iwaizumi tries to joke.

Aone doesn’t seem to register the humor, shaking his head, “It takes time to learn.”

Iwaizumi ins’t sure how to respond to this level of maturity from a boy who might be his age or maybe years older. Instead, he leans down and helps pick up the stones. Once they’re all in a pile, Aone starts placing them back in their designated space, rebuilding the simple little barrier of the flower bed.

Iwaizumi hands him the rocks as he does so, falling into a comfortable silence with the Datekou boy. He decides he’s a fan of him. It’s rare he gets a moment of silence with being at Oikawa’s talkative side all hours of the day. This sense of peace is nice. Refreshing.

When they’re finished Aone stands up, brushing the dirt from his knees and nodding at Iwaizumi, “Dinner is soon,” he advises, pointing back toward the castle. Iwaizumi gives his own nod then, sending a small wave as he treks back up the hill to the fortress.

Aone waves back, taking a different path.

When Iwaizumi reaches the castle, dinner has already been served, he moves to enter the dining hall when a maid leads him away to eat with the other servants in the kitchen. He huffs but doesn’t complain.

Finally, once dinner is over, he reunites with Oikawa who simply waves him away again, “Iwaizumi, go prepare my new quarters will you? I will join you in a moment.”

Iwaizumi feels his eyebrow twitch, but he bows all the same and follows one of the Datekou butlers to Oikawa’s guest quarters. He pulls out the Prince’s pajamas in preparation, figuring that must have been what he meant. And then he sits down in the chair, seething.

It takes another half hour before Oikawa slips into the room with an exhausted sigh, closing the door behind him. Iwaizumi knows because he had counted the minutes, each one adding to his festering anger.

“Iwa-chan! This day was so long! They’re all so serious here!” Oikawa bemoans, slipping into the seat across from his attendant, “And boring! I’ve learned way too many things about rocks from that stupid brat of theirs.” Oikawa lets out another sigh, peeking his gaze over at Iwaizumi. He frowns, eyes squinting, “You’re mad at me.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond. He glares.

Oikawa sits up, “Why are you mad at me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sire. Am I even allowed to be mad at royalty?”

Oikawa groans, slipping back into his seat, “What did you want me to do? Offend them by having you stick around? It’s different here. There’s a lot more degrees of separation.”

Iwaizumi knows he’s right, but he still feels sick thinking about it.

“You know they wanted you to be in the servants’ quarters in the other wing? Actually they’re assuming you’ll be there after ‘preparing my quarters’ which was the only thing I could come up with to get you here.” Oikawa sighs.

“Should I go?” Iwaizumi asks.

“No. I haven’t seen you all day.” Oikawa insists, putting a hand over Iwaizumi’s, “If they get mad I can just say it’s a cultural difference. Which it is, so we’re not even lying.”

Iwaizumi purses his lips, “Not many attendants sleep beside their princes.”

“Well, not many princes are demons with nightmares.” Oikawa counters.

Iwaizumi smiles, despite everything, and lets out a defeated sigh. He turns his hand around to play with the Prince’s fingers. He can never stay angry at the Prince for very long.

Oikawa grins at him, squeezing his hand in turn, “Now, come on, quiz me while we change.”

Iwaizumi sighs, standing up to undress the Prince, scanning his mind for names, “Sugawara Shouyou.”

“The young prince of Karasuno. The one Tobio tried to murder.”

Iwaizumi snorts, “Shimizu Kiyoko”

Oikawa huffs, “Pretty medicine woman at Karasuno, not very bright.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “Just because she didn’t flirt back doesn’t mean she’s not very bright.”

Oikawa turns his head away with a stern frown, “Whatever, give me a non Karasuno one!”

Iwaizumi sighs, rummaging in his head for something because he would rather not dig through his notes. He smiles mischievously, “Aone Takanobu.”

Oikawa blinks at him, “Masonry prodigy in Datekou. How do you know him?”

Iwaizumi blinks in turn, “I met him today. How do _you_ know him?”

“That brat mentioned him at least five times while I was trying to talk policy with his mother,” Oikawa sighs, “Were you trying to trick me, Iwa-chan?”

“I think it’s time for bed.”

“Never mind that, do you know what I learned today?” Oikawa says, pulling away from Iwaizumi once he’s been dressed, “Nekoma is not the only country interested in demonology. Karasuno is too.”

“They are? We couldn’t find anything in their library.” Iwaizumi frowns, following Oikawa into the bed.

“I know! Apparently, they don’t like to advertise it, they’re working on their image. But apparently they have a wealth of knowledge on the subject! I wish we could just go back there and snoop around some more.”

Iwaizumi snorts, “You’re just trying to think up excuses to bail on Shiratorizawa.”

“That’s just a bonus.” Oikawa assures, turning to face Iwaizumi on his side. Iwaizumi smiles at him sadly, bringing a hand up to brush one of Oikawa’s waves behind his ear. His fingers trail up, running along the ridges of his horns.

Oikawa hums, closing his eyes, but Iwaizumi can tell he’s still tense beside him, so his next words are no surprise, “Do you really think he’ll make me do it?”

Iwaizumi lets out a sigh, bringing his hand back to his side, “I don’t know.”

“I don’t think I could ever love him,” Oikawa whispers into his pillow.

“You don’t even know what love is. You’re fourteen,” Iwaizumi mutters back, trying to inject some humor into the conversation.

Oikawa doesn’t take the bait, just flicking his unnaturally bright gaze up at him. His brown gaze holds on green, and Iwaizumi feels his skin prickle. But then Oikawa closes his eyes, “Goodnight, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi lets out a soft breath, turning his face to stare at the ceiling, “Goodnight, Oikawa.”

* * *

 

Iwaizumi nudges Oikawa in the carriage, trying to rouse him from his sleep. Oikawa groans, swatting him with his tail. Iwaizumi grabs it in retaliation, tugging it mercilessly, which elicits a whine from its owner.

Oikawa opens his eyes, grabbing his tail back, “That hurts, you know!”

“We’re here,” Iwaizumi says, peering out of their curtained window. Oikawa takes a breath, masking himself, before poking his head out to see.

The glittering gates of Shiratorizawa open before them, each topped with a golden eagle, the national animal. Iwaizumi thinks they’re pretty cool. Oikawa finds them overrated and gaudy.

“Hey, if I make a run for it now, how far do you think I’ll get?” Oikawa asks, as their carriage makes its way up the path, “Oh my God, they’ve got servants lining the whole path to welcome us.” Oikawa cries, looking away and covering his face.

Iwaizumi pokes his head out again, eyebrows raising, “Damn.”

“I hate this,” Oikawa mourns, sinking into his seat.

“This is like, completely up your ally. You’re always looking for stuff to grow your ego.” Iwaizumi points out.

“Yeah, but this is different! They’re just excited their future trophy is visiting.”

Iwaizumi leans back in his own seat, “It might not be that bad. I mean, the Kings in Karasuno seemed to share power pretty evenly. Not everywhere is like your dad and mom.”

“But I don’t _want_ to be a King of Shiratorizawa.” Oikawa snaps, “This isn’t my home, and these aren’t my people! Not to mention, Aoba Johsai will fall apart under Tobio. My ascendancy is for the greater good!”

“Uh, huh.” Iwaizumi replies, unimpressed, “Oh, Ushiwaka’s out there. Hey, do you think he’ll remember my name this time?”

“Ugg, I’m gonna have to kiss him again.” Oikawa groans, falling to the side until he’s horizontal in his seat. Iwaizumi blinks, eyes darting straight to Oikawa at the words.

“You kissed him?” He asks, incredulously, the words tripping over his lips as they barge out of his mouth.

Oikawa peeks through his hands, “It’s like, a thing here. Like a greeting. You kiss everyone.”

“What?”

“Not on the lips! Like, on the cheek. You wouldn’t expect it since they’re all so serious here but whatever. Weren’t you with me last time when I almost vomited? Oh wait, no, that was when you were sick with a fever, I remember now.”

Iwaizumi frowns, feeling his face heat up a little, “Do _I_ have to do that?”

“Probably not,” Oikawa sighs, “Hey, but can you do it for me?”

“Hard pass.” Iwaizumi replies, standing up, and opening the carriage door as the horses come to a stop. He extends a hand to help the Prince down before falling into step behind him.

Prince Wakatoshi Ushijima stands before them, surrounded by servants sending their many greetings and bows.

“Welcome, Tooru.” Ushijima greets stepping forward wne placing his hands on the other Prince’s upper arms. He leans down kissing each cheek while Oikawa begrudgingly does the same. Iwaizumi keeps his eyes trained on the ground.

“Hello, Ushiwaka-chan.” Oikawa replies once he pulls back.

Ushijima lets out a small sigh, “Must you call me that?”

“Yes, _dear_ , I really must.” Oikawa sneers, moving past him, “I’m much too tired from the journey to discuss much, I think I will be retiring to the guest quarters early, oh and no need to show me, I know where they are.”

“Oh, in actually we have prepared you your own bed chamber.” Ushijima remarks, stopping Oikawa in his tracks, “We assume you will be visiting quite often, and we would hate for you to have to repack constantly. This way you can leave things here.”

Oikawa swallows, “Great! How thoughtful of you.”

“Thank you.” Ushijima responds with a nod. Oikawa grits his teeth when he smiles, “In the morning once you’re rested we need to have a meeting with the wedding planner.”

“Wedding planner?” Oikawa bristles, “The wedding isn’t for another four years!”

Ushijima seems to falter, almost as if he agrees, but his eyes grow stern again, “Father says it’s always best to plan ahead.”

“This is insane!” Oikawa shouts.

Ushijima frowns, glancing around the busy hallway, at the servants looking over at them. He turns around, “Let me show you to your room.”

Oikawa falls into silence as they make their way up the ornate stairs and down the hallway to a section of the castle he is unfamiliar with. At the end are a grandiose pair of double doors. Ushijima opens them to reveal a gargantuan sized room, a giant bed, a chaise lounge, multiple wardrobes, a stocked bookcase and desk. Thick velvety curtains frame the windows.

Iwaizumi places the luggage on the ground, taking in the room as neutrally as he can. “I hope this room will be to your liking,” Ushijima says, “If you need anything do not hesitate to ask. One of my servants will come collect you in the morning. There is an attached room for your attendant through those doors. I wish you a restful sleep.”

Once Ushijima closes the door behind him Oikawa visibly sags, crumpling to the floor and letting out a groan. Iwaizumi nudges him with his foot, “Can you at least mope on the bed? It looks incredible.”

“I don’t want to sleep in it. This room is just to show how off how much wealthier they are then us,” Oikawa snaps, squirming about on the floor.

Iwaizumi turns away to look through the bookcase. Shelves and shelves of books on agriculture, a few on politics and some light reading crowd it, “Aoba Johsai is pretty wealthy. We look better off than Datekou and Karasuno.”

“Karasuno can barely stand on its own, who knows if it’ll make it another decade. Datekou has always been pretty stagnant, they keep to themselves.” Oikawa replies.

“Why is Shiratorizawa so rich anyway?” Iwaizumi asks, pulling out a book to flip through it. Definitely too high level for him. He slips it back in place on the shelf.

Oikawa has rolled onto his back, staring up to the ceiling, “They’re just in a lucky spot. Lot of fertile soil here. They grow everything they consume and have a huge amount of surplus to trade out. We get a lot of our food from them, actually.”

“Really? I thought our soil was good too.” Iwaizumi turns away from the bookcase completely, taking a seat on the desk chair backwards. He rests his arms and head on the back of it, looking down at Oikawa, “You look like an idiot, by the way.”

“Our soil _is_ good, but more for flowers and aesthetic plants than food products. And, don’t be mean, Iwa-chan. I’m suffering.”

“I don’t think Ushiwaka is all that excited to marry you either.” Iwaizumi points out, “He looks miserable too.”

“That’s just his face.” Oikawa replies, “He should feel honored to have the chance to marry me. Have you seen me?”

Iwaizumi looks unimpressed, “Remember when Prince Kenji called you ugly?”

“Shut up! He was a brat anyway,” Oikawa huffs, sitting up from the floor.

“Yeah, I’ve kind of realized that all royal kids are brats.”

“Except me.”

“ _Especially_ _you_.”

Oikawa sticks his tongue out, standing up from the floor. He places his hands on Iwaizumi’s shoulders, leaning down so their faces are practically touching. Iwaizumi stares at him, “Um, wha-?”

“Iwa-chan, I have an important mission for you.”

“Okay, but I’m going to need you to take two steps back.”

“This is to help you focus. This mission is very important.”

“I literally can’t focus on anything except your foul breath right now.”

“My breath is not foul!” Oikawa snaps, but he pulls away all the same, glaring at him.

Iwaizumi sighs, resting a hand on his palm, “What’s the mission, sire?”

“I have a bad feeling I’m not going to have a single moment alone while we’re here,” Oikawa murmurs, “I need you to investigate the library here by yourself, and try to be sneaky about it. More sneaky then before. I’m sure Father and King Ushijima talk to each other all the time, and I don’t want him to hear about me researching demons.”

Iwaizumi nods, “Alright. So you don’t want me to tag along with you and Ushiwaka?”

“I’ll suffer alone, for the good of the Kingdom.” Oikawa sighs, laying a hand upon his forehead dramatically, “Oh! That reminds me.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to each of Iwaizumi’s cheeks, watching them flame up from his touch. Iwaizumi makes a choking noise, reeling back and staring wide eyed at him, “What was that for?”

Oikawa giggles into his hand, “A palette cleanser,” he replies, spinning away, “Now, come Iwa-chan! I want a bath before I sleep.”

Iwaizumi touches his cheeks lightly. His face is burning. He takes a breath and then scrambles out of the chair to follow after his Prince.

* * *

“Ushiwaka-chan, I will not have any purple at my wedding, so help me.”

“It is our national color.”

“ _Your_ national color. Honestly, this is grounds for canceling the wedding. This color palette is absolutely garish.”

Ushijima huffs, closing the book, “You are a very difficult person.”

“And you’re absolutely charming.” Oikawa bites back.

“Thank you.”

“Oh my God! I was kidding!”

“Oh.”

Oikawa groans, sinking into his chair, “Can we stop doing this? When am I meeting with your father about policy stuff? I’ve been here for days!”

Ushijima shakes his head, “Your father already came by a few days before your arrival so your schedule would free up.”

“Free up my schedule? For what? Picking colors for a ceremony taking place in four years?”

Ushijima nods, “That is what it seems.”

Oikawa throws the book onto the floor. Ushijima stands up wordlessly to pick it up, carefully placing it back on the table. He hesitates sitting back down, remaining standing, “You act as if you are the only one unhappy with this arrangement.”

Oikawa sighs, “Well, I’m the only one trying to stop it. If you’re so unhappy tell your father to call it off, I’m sure he’ll listen to _you_.”

Ushijima shakes his head, “Father only gives me freedom when it comes to agricultural policy. As the one Prince of Shiratorizawa I have certain duties to follow, no matter what. One of them happens to be marrying you and ensuring a strong alliance with Aoba Johsai.”

“Do you even have emotions, Ushiwaka-chan? Do you feel anything at all for other people?”

“You can be very cruel at times, Tooru.” Ushijima comments, flicking his gaze, “Of course I have emotions, I am a person after all. I love my father. I loved my mother. I admire you. You are very talented. I envy your control of words. But I also pity your pessimism, and that worthless pride you cling too.”

“Worthless pride, eh?”

“You would do well here.” Ushijima continues, “We could be an incredibly powerful couple that could bring Shiratorizawa into a golden age. My domestic policies paired with your mastery over diplomacy, we would be unstoppable. Our marriage is much more palatable when you think of it as a business partnership.”

“Everything you’re saying right now is making me nauseous,” Oikawa gags, “How would you feel if I gave you that same spiel to convince you to come be a King of Aoba Johsai? Would you be jumping at the chance?”

Ushijima stays silent as Oikawa stands up, “That’s what I thought. Don’t lecture me about my worthless pride when all you do is keep your head in the dirt. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be retiring early.”

By the time Oikawa returns to his chambers, Iwaizumi is already there, sitting crosslegged on the floor. His back is turned from the door, busy sifting through a stack of books at his side. “Welcome back,” he calls without turning around.

He grunts when Oikawa drapes himself over his back, arms encircling around his neck and face burrowing into the crook between his shoulder. Iwaizumi puts the book down, reaching a hand up to touch Oikawa’s hand, “You ok?”

“No.” Oikawa murmurs into his neck, squeezing tighter, “Give me a moment.”

Iwaizumi waits, patiently, drawing circles on the back of Oikawa’s hand with his finger. He feels Oikawa’s breathing evening, feels his horn press against the back of his head awkwardly, and smiles.

Finally, Oikawa lifts his head, disentangling himself from Iwaizumi to sit beside him on the ground. Iwaizumi feels cold without his presence, but doesn’t comment, nudging Oikawa’s knee, “Look, I found some books that might be helpful.”

“You found demonology books?” Oikawa gasps, grasping at the first book he finds.

“I found a couple books on the occult, a lot on the dangers of black magic, and some stuff on witches.”

Oikawa deflates slightly, but he leafs through the book in hand, “I guess it’s a start.”

“More than the other libraries.” Iwaizumi reminds.

“I wish we were visiting Nekoma.” Oikawa sighs, “They seem to be the experts in this.”

“I think you have a better chance visiting Karasuno again.”

“I guess, but Father won’t let me leave so soon. I’ll have to wait months, maybe even years.” Oikawa bemoans.

A knock resonates in the room, and the door slips open. Iwaizumi instinctively, pulls his weight to shield Oikawa from the intruder, while Oikawa focuses on masking himself.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” Ushijima says as he closes the door behind him, “I did not feel we left on good terms, and with your departure from Shiratorizawa soon, I wanted to speak with you again.”

“I’m kind of busy right now, Ushiwaka-chan.” Oikawa snaps.

“I know. I simply wanted to say that I understand you have difficulty leaving your emotional attachment to your own kingdom. I have been trying to brainstorm different ideas to rectify this issue. One idea I thought of is if I were to give you a thorough tour of all of my Kingdoms wonders? So that you might see it’s merit over Aoba Johsai?”

Oikawa glares at him, “No, Ushiwaka. I have no interest doing anything like that. Now please, I’m busy.”

Ushijima frowns, “Alright, I will try to think of other possible solutions.” He straightens up, but his eyes catch upon the myriad of books on the floor, “I see you have made use of our library. It is the largest in the continent, we have partnerships with many other kingdoms.” He leans down, picking up a book curiously, “Are you interested in the occult, Tooru?”

Oikawa shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, “I like to know about everything.”

Ushijima nods, “Are you searching for anything specific?”

Oikawa weighs his options but then decides it’s all hopeless anyway, so he shrugs,“Demons.”

“Demons?” Ushijima echoes, putting the book back down neatly, “May I ask why?”

“Curiosity.”

“I completely understand. When I was younger I became particular fascinated with Thrips Tabacis, or thunderflies as they are more commonly known,” Ushijima replies with a sense of sympathy.

“What,” Oikawa blinks, “are you talking about?”

“They are an insect that devastate onions. I remember spending all night reading a book about them and their impact on the southern countryside.”

“What do they look like?” Iwaizumi asks curiously, leaning into the conversation.

Ushijima seems surprised at the question, as if he’d forgotten Iwaizumi was even there. It irks the attendant, but he swallows it down. Ushijima recovers quickly, turning to him, “They are incredibly small, with a larg-“

“This does not matter.” Oikawa cuts in, annoyed.

“Bugs are cool.” Iwaizumi mutters. Ushijima nods, echoing the sentiment.

“I want to go to bed. Can you go, Ushiwaka-chan?”

Ushijima frowns but acquiesces, standing back up, “I don’t believe we have books on demons in the library. If you would like I could request some from Karasuno or Nekoma.”

“Wait, really?” Oikawa asks, eyes suddenly alight with hope.

“Of course, I can have them sent directly to Aoba Johsai as well.” Ushijima adds helpfully.

“Ah, no, don’t do that.” Oikawa shakes his head, “Could you actually have them sent here? You can leave them in this room. I can read them when I visit again.”

“If that is what you prefer.” Ushijima shrugs, moving back toward the door.

Oikawa springs up, catching Ushijima’s arm, “Wait! And this has to be a secret. Don’t let our fathers know.”

Ushijima blinks, “Why?”

“Just trust me. If you want this partnership to work we have to trust each other right? Well, here’s your first test. Do you understand?” Oikawa replies, brown eyes stern, boring into the other’s face. His grip tightens on the other Prince, fingers digging into his skin.

Ushijima looks down at Oikawa’s hand on his wrist, and then back at his face. He lets out a sigh, “Understood.”

Oikawa grins, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to both his cheeks. Ushijima complies automatically. Iwaizumi looks away. Ushijima gives the attendant a nod and finally slips out.

Oikawa makes an exagerated gagging motion before swooping down to Iwaizumi to kiss his cheeks. Iwaizumi shoves him off, “Stop doing that!”

Oikawa can’t help giggling, even as Iwaizumi starts pelting him with pillows and cushions in retaliation.

* * *

The first thing Oikawa does when he returns home is hug his mother tight.

The first thing Iwaizumi does when he returns home is get dragged to the barracks.

The barracks weren’t necessarily an unfamiliar place for Iwaizumi. He had spent a lot of his time talking to the knights in training, watching them run and spar. He was always ready to offer himself up to them for practice and the knights themselves were eager to have him because he was strong and like-able.

“It’s such a waste they keep you locked up in that castle!” He remembers one of the head knights exclaiming, giving his shoulder a strong pat.

He doesn’t think of it often, but his mind does wonder, at times, what could have been, if he had been left to the knight program. But he can’t imagine not being by Oikawa’s side, not spending his days bickering with him over breakfast, riding around the castle grounds, and marveling at him and all his talents.

“Iwaizumi, you need to talk to him.” One of the trainees that had dragged him away begs, “He won’t listen to anyone! And if he keeps this up he’s going to get himself killed.”

“Why me?” Iwaizumi asks, following the boy to the barracks.

The other trainee looks at him like it’s obvious, “Everyone listens to you, Iwaizumi. Even Prince Tooru! And he doesn’t even listen to the King half the time!”

The statement makes Iwaizumi feel weird and he tries not to think about it too much. Luckily, he’s distracted almost immediately by an angry shout.

“Get your hands off me!”

Iwaizumi sighs, realizing immediately who the gruff voice belongs to. He turns the corner, finding the newest problematic trainee, Kyoutani Kentarou fighting off other trainees. Where were the guards? Useless. He lets out a sigh, “Settle down!” He roars, crossing his arms and trying to seem older than he really was.

The trainees in the scuffle whirl around, and the pair drop Kyoutani who snarls at them. One of the trainees explains in a whine, “He keeps pushing our cots outside!”

“I don’t like people near me.” Kyoutani huffs, glaring at the others distrustfully.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. What a dumb reason for a fight. What a dumb reason to be dragged away from the Oikawa’s homecoming gathering. He grabs Kyoutani by the collar and pulls him out of the barracks entirely. He dumps him on the ground, ignoring his snarls, “You need to shape up, Kyoutani.”

“Fuck off.” Kyoutani spits, “I’m not sitting through a lecture from some silver spooned pansy.”

Iwaizumi is unimpressed, “ _I’ve_ got a silver spoon in my mouth, huh?” Iwaizumi takes a step closer, leaning into Kyoutani’s crouched form, “What makes us so different? We’re both orphans. We’re both fortunate enough to be employed by the royal court. We’re both fed and housed. Is it that you’re training to be a knight and I’m not? So that makes you better than me? Stronger than me? We both know that isn’t true.”

“I am stronger!” Kyoutani glowers, shoving Iwaizumi away from him as he stands up.

“Oh yeah?” Iwaizumi says, and theres a new glint in his eye as he straightens himself up, “You want to prove it?”

Kyoutani squints his eyes at him, baring his teeth, “How?”

“Arm wrestle. Simple feat of strength. Let’s go.”

Kyoutani leaps at the challenge, and the pair make their way back to the barracks to borrow a table. When word spills out of the battle, trainees pour into the room to surround the pair. Kyoutani bristles at the attention but tries to stay focus, holding his arm out. Iwaizumi takes him, and the fight begins. There are chants from each side and although it is a close match for the first few moments, Iwaizumi wins with a powerful, decisive thud.

Kyoutani insists on a rematch, and another, and another, but Iwaizumi trumps him each time, letting out victorious laugh after victorious laugh. Kyoutani glowers as the group of trainees cheer around him. And it is in the midst of this celebration that they are interrupted.

“Pardon the intrusion! Is Iwaizumi in here?” Oikawa calls into the room, smiling with amusement at the merry making around him.

The trainees all freeze before quickly bowing deeply to the Prince in greeting. Iwaizumi and Kyoutani stand up, and when Kyoutani doesn’t move further, Iwaizumi slaps him on the back, “Bow to your Prince,” he orders sternly. Kyoutani grumbles, but does as he’s told.

Oikawa chuckles into his hand, “It’s alright. It’s been a while since I’ve visited the barracks.”

One of the trainees steps forward, words clumsy and flustered, “You were away on your trip, we understand.”

“Oh, thank you Fujioka, you are much too kind. How is your sister?” Oikawa responds with his signature smile.

The trainee’s eyes widen, a grin overtaking her face at being remembered by someone so important, “She’s completely recovered!”

“That’s wonderful. I’m glad to hear it.” Oikawa nods, turning his sparkling brown eyes to gaze upon green, “I’m sorry to interrupt all the fun, but I need to steal my attendant back.”

Iwaizumi pushes his way through, waving a goodbye to the trainees before falling into step beside Oikawa. When they’re safely out of earshot, Iwaizumi leans in, “Is something wrong?”

Oikawa shakes his head, “No, I just missed you is all.”

Iwaizumi feels his neck flame up so he puts on a deep frown to mask it, “That’s dumb.”

“Sorry, Iwa-chan! You’re stuck with me!” Oikawa calls in a sing song voice, as he speeds up his step to more of a light jog. “Oh but, can you get the mail! I might have gotten letters while I was away! I’ll see you in the room! Bye!”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, now that the true reason has been revealed. He lets out a sigh, but obediently heads over to the mail on the other side of the castle. It’s a long walk that Oikawa hates and Iwaizumi is thus, accustomed to doing.There are some letters from a few nobles, one from Ushijima, and one from Karasuno. He pockets them, cracking a crick in his neck he developed during the long journey and heads back toward the Great Hall.

He doesn’t get very far when a hand rests on his shoulder, making him freeze. He looks up to see the King smiling down on him. He can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine at the sight. He quickly brings his head back to look straight ahead. He could never figure out how to look at the King properly.

“Iwaizumi, it’s good to see you again. Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Iwaizumi nods, words incapable of passing through the knot in his throat. He feels like he’s choking, feet cold as the King steers him up the stairs and to his private study. He had never been alone with the King before. He had never wanted to be.

The King’s study is as grandiose as expected. Ornate book cases tower him on either sides of the wall. A beautiful oak writing desk sits by the window, covered in papers and fresh ink. The King takes a seat, offering Iwaizumi one as well. But Iwaizumi’s legs are locked at the knees and so he stays standing.

“There’s no need to look so terrified, Iwaizumi.” The Kings says, “I’m here to thank you.”

Iwaizumi blinks, but the tension does not leave his shoulders.

The King takes a sip of the wine in his hand, “How was your trip?”

“It was good, sire.” Iwaizumi answers.

“I heard all about it, our neighbors are quite impressed with Prince Tooru,” The King replies, and Iwaizumi can’t help the proud smile that dances across his face. The King sees it, his own smile flitting across his face, but his eyes are dark, “It’s too bad they don’t know the truth, don’t you agree?”

Iwaizumi’s smile slips from his face, but he stays quiet.

“There’s no need to play dumb, Iwaizumi. I know you know Tooru’s little secret.” 

Iwaizumi stays resolute in his silence, keeping his eyes trained on a spot on the wall behind the King’s head. He holds his hands behind his back to hide their trembling.

“Tooru’s vice will bring ruin to this kingdom, that is obvious. Or is it not? Your eyes are so expressive Iwaizumi, I can see your thoughts so clearly. You can’t lie can you? Do you not realize how dangerous Tooru is? How dangerous he continues to grow? Shouldn’t you know, first hand, how terrifying a demon can be?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond.

“Emotions rule him, Iwaizumi. He may act cold and calculated, ready to manipulate the world, but he wears his heart on his sleeve. In a flash he loses control, and the kingdom plunges into chaos. Do you not see that?”

Iwaizumi remembers he needs to breath and sucks in a breath as discretely as he can.

The King snorts, “I’ve waited too long, hoping something would change, and now the Kingdom adores their first Prince. I did not count on a demon’s powers of manipulation. I have two options, Iwaizumi, before me. One, is already in place, make him Shiratorizawa’s problem. Let him wreak havoc up there. My other? Have Oikawa reveal his true colors publicly so the Kingdom turns against him.”

The King stands up, hefting his body out of his seat and turning away to look out his window. Iwaizumi can’t bear to relax, staying tense and alert as the King begins again, “I recieved the most interesting news from the Queen of Datekou while you were away. Do you want to hear it?” He asks, turning his face around at him. Iwaizumi doesn’t respond.

The King turns back toward the window, “She spoke about Tooru’s tact and charm. But she also mentioned how odd, the cultural differences between our two kingdoms. How interesting that we have attendants sleep with their masters,” Iwaizumi squeezes his fingers into his palms, sweat accumulating on his brow.

“Now, imagine my puzzlement reading over that passage! Sleeping with masters is not a practice I have ever heard of,” The King chuckles, turning back around. He takes another sip of his wine, walking over to where Iwaizumi stands, “But then I began to think, and I realized something wonderful,” he chuckles, “Tooru has been so hard to expose because his pride gives way for so little. I could only imagine it would fall apart when you took away something he truly loved. But Tooru is so stingy with his heart, and for the longest time the only thing he cared for was his mother.”

The King’s hand falls on his shoulder once more, squeezing it enough for Iwaizumi to let out a choked gasp, “Until, that is, he met you.”

The pressure on his shoulder is released, and the King sits down on the lounge chair, taking another sip of his wine. It takes all of Iwaizumi’s will power not to crumple to his knees.

“You can continue your affair with my son. In fact, you have my full blessing. You have finally given me my trump card against the evil clinging to this castle, and I thank you for it.” The King smiles lifting his glass as if in a toast.

Iwaizumi speaks up for the first time and his voice is soft, crackling at the edges, “May I be excused, Your Highness?

“Of course, Iwaizumi. Say hello to Tooru for me.”

Iwaizumi forces out a nod before walking out of the study. He takes measured steps down the stairs and slips through the servant’s hallways into the yard. His feet build into a run as he races through the grounds to the west edge. He falls to his knees, weight buckling as he gasps for breath. He crawls between the bush and the fence, practically too big to fit now but he manages anyway.

The hole has long been filled, but he is not here for it. He sits, drawing his knees to his chest and leaning against the fence. He wants to scream, adrenaline coursing through his veins, fear stabbing into his heart. His breaths are short and manic, his eyes are leaking, and his mind feels like its breaking.

His shoulder aches and he wonders if it’s bruised. It burns under his tunic and he longs to claw away the touch of the King’s cruel hand. The King had the nature of their relationship wrong--Iwaizumi doesnt really want to think of what he was implying--but the King was right regardless.

Oikawa had given him his heart and his trust years ago when he’d offered him a bowl of miso soup and a secret name. And Iwaizumi had given him his when he’d vowed to complete any and all of his missions.

He always thought that to be his strength.

But maybe it was a terrible weakness.

Terror seizes through Iwaizumi as he considers scenarios, countless scenes that could happen at any moment. Tomorrow. The next day. A year from now. The possibilities were endless. Oikawa stood in front of audiences all the time.

The King could order anyone to attack him, to kill him, whenever he wanted. He didn’t need reason, he could fabricate anything. He was the _King_. Iwaizumi was just a servant boy in the castle. Replaceable. He could be killed at any moment and Iwaizumi was strong, sure, but he was fourteen years old. He knew the odds were not with him in this kind of battle. He would not win. But Oikawa would be the one to lose.

Engulfed in demonic rage, revealed to the world as the monster he was casted to be.

Iwaizumi can’t bear the thought of being the chrysalis for Oikawa’s downfall. To be the reason the life he had worked so tirelessly to construct slips out of his fingers. To ruin the reputation he had built through sweat and tears throughout the lands. To commit his name to the annals of infamy.

All these thoughts rattle in Iwaizumi’s head, bruising his insides as he weeps in the bushes, in the dirt. Powerless. A simple pawn on a chess board, ordered to die for the King’s benefit. He feels nauseous, hacking as he tries to swallow down his sobs with little success. Is this what his life is to be? Dedicated to another only to ruin him and then die? To be forgotten in the shadow of the wall, to be barred entry from rooms at the mercy of others, to sit obediently until his sacrifice was needed?

And Oikawa. Iwaizumi can not bear Oikawa’s face as it flashes in his mind’s eye. But it is there. Always there. A beautiful, stunning face, framed by spiraling horns. And Iwaizumi rips at the bushes in frustration, thinks how cruel and unfair the world to be. Wishes the King were as fragile as this bush, his bones mere twigs to snap with his hands.

Iwaizumi stops himself when he feels the sting of a thorn stab his finger and bead blood. He takes a deep breath, and another, and another. Taking a moment to gather himself. He wipes his mess of a face with his handkerchief, taking another breath. He stands up.

The moon is high in the sky.

He makes a decision.

He will not be the reason Oikawa Tooru falls.

He makes his way back to the castle, takes a quick kitchen break to gulp down a cup of water, before climbing up the steps to the Prince’s quarters.

Oikawa is waiting for him, as expected, reading a book. He looks up, pout already in place. But the moment he lays his eyes on his friend the pout dissolves from his face as concern overtakes him. He stands up, “Iwa-chan! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Iwaizumi responds gruffly, and he can’t look Oikawa in the eye because it _hurts_.

Oikawa stands before him, and Iwaizumi hates that the Prince has grown taller than him, because it means he consumes his entire field of vision. No escape.

Powerless.

“Iwa-chan, what happened?”

“Nothing. Here’s your mail.” Iwaizumi digs the letters out of his pocket, dropping them on the desk, “Let me get you changed.”

“Iwa-chan, something’s clearly wrong. What happened?”

Iwaizumi ignores him, stripping the Prince of his clothes and redressing him in his pajamas. Oikawa eventually falls silent when he realizes he isn’t getting anywhere. But it’s short-lived, because soon his voice fills the air again, panicked, “Where are you going?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t turn around from the door, “Bed.”

“In your room?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa looks dumbfounded, eyes searching, but Iwaizumi keeps his head turned, “Isn’t that what it’s there for?”

He closes the door and curls up on the floor.

Iwaizumi had forgotten how cold the nights were alone.

* * *

It takes a week to get everything ready. It takes a week to to talk to the guards about transferring. To inform his fellow servants. To stake out a spot in the trainee squad. It takes a week but he does it. There is only one thing keeping him.

Oikawa knows too, because he’s smart. He has picked up on everything Iwaizumi has been doing, on his distance, on his frequent meetings in the barracks. He knows what he is doing but he can’t make sense of it. Of why his best friend in the entire realm has stopped giving him the light of day. Has started fulfilling his duties to the bare minimum in silence, locking himself in his own room as much as possible.

But he does know what is coming. What Iwaizumi has been building up to for the past week. And it terrifies him. So he hides. He keeps busy. To delay it. To pray this just blows over. To wish everything could be ok. Why is everything not ok?

Iwaizumi manages to corner him in a secluded area of the grounds one evening, request in hand, and face full of resolve. They had barely spoken this week. Oikawa growing more frustrated and annoyed and angry. Iwaizumi growing more nauseous and resolute. When they meet in the middle it is an explosion of misery.

“I’m not signing it,” Oikawa hisses, smacking the paper away from him as if it offends him. (It does.)

Iwaizumi keeps his face as neutral as he can, bending down to pick it up, “Please sign it.”

“I’m not signing it. I’m never signing it. What is this about, Iwa-chan? I don’t understand!” Oikawa’s voice is shrill and it breaks Iwaizumi’s heart further. It hurts to hear his Prince like this. And because it hurts so much he knows he has to do this. He grows angry at Oikawa for prolonging the moment.

Iwaizumi holds the paper out again, “Please sign it.”

“Is that all you’re going to say to me? I take you in for five years, I give you all my secrets, and this is all you give me?”

Iwaizumi feels his hands fisting at his sides, “All I give you? I have given you everything!” He snaps, a righteous anger coursing through him, and he latches to the feeling, because it is better at filling the gaping hole in his heart. His tone is hateful, “I served you hand and foot for five years, you ungrateful brat!”

Oikawa is taken aback, eyes flashing red in his own fury, “How dare you speak to me like that! Remember who I am, I’m the first Prince of Aoba Johsai!”

And Iwaizumi feels venom fill into his mouth like bile rising up his throat, “That title is worthless and we both know it. Soon enough you’ll be enjoying your life free of suffering, being waited on hand and foot like always at the Shiratorizawa castle, and you’ll only need to spread your legs for Ushijima to attain it. _Poor you_.”

There’s a crack in the air, and Iwaizumi falls to his knees, clutching the side of his face. He blinks back tears, looking up to see the Prince towering over him. Thick horns spiral from his head, eyes red, a darkness clouding around him. He looks terrifying, and for the first time, Iwaizumi feels fear grip his heart when he looks at Oikawa’s foreign face.

( _But his hands aren’t talons_ , Iwaizumi thinks in the back of his mind, a _nd his slap did not break my skin_.”

“I may have a worthless title, but at least my life has value. Remember, Iwaizumi, you were nothing before I chose you and you will return to nothingness without me.” Oikawa picks up the paper, eyes dark and empty, “I’ll sign your request if you are so desperate to be rid of me. I won’t keep you here. I’m not a monster.” He scratches his signature into the page with his pen, throwing the crumpled sheet on Iwaizumi’s fallen form, “I hope you enjoy your newfound freedom, Iwaizumi Hajime.”

Oikawa turns, making his way back toward the castle. Iwaizumi stands up, rubbing his face and holding the sheet of paper tightly in his fist. He thinks of calling out to him, but his voice is gone. Escaped in the midst of the fight, as if his soul had left him. As if a part of him so central to himself had left him.

He turns and walks the opposite way, towards the barracks. Feet heavy with each step but heart hardened by resolve. The fight had proven how necessary this was. Oikawa had revealed his demon self in a flash, had not even thought of the consequences of being seen in such a state.

Iwaizumi knows he is doing the right thing.

But it still kills him to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Oikawa! Sorry I made you sad. 
> 
> I am overwhelmed by all the wonderful comments I've received on this fic. It really warms my heart. I've been having a hard time and this fic has kind of been therapeutic for me. I'm really happy people are enjoying it!
> 
> I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.
> 
> See you soon.


	3. Part III - Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa rushes toward the dagger, prying it out and shoving it back in with the desperate obsessiveness of a man who has lost everything.

Iwaizumi Hajime pets the horse with a soft smile, threading his fingers through her dark mane. She whinnies at him softly, dipping her head into his cupped hand to lick up the oats. He lets out a breathy laugh at the feeling, “You like that, Pumpkin?”

The June sun is high in the sky above him, but the overhang on the stables provides him enough shade to make the heat bearable. He dips inside his pocket for a few more oats for the lady. She nuzzles into his hand as thanks for his services. He pats her head.

“You spoil her, Iwaizumi,” comes a chuckle from behind him.

Iwaizumi turns around, bowing deeply in the same motion, “Good afternoon, sire.”

Oikawa nods at him, eyes clouded. He gives him his princely smile, “Spending time with the horses, today?”

Iwaizumi straightens up, keeping his eyes on the horse instead of Oikawa, “Just checking on her during my break.” He hesitates a moment, wondering if this is the end of the conversation, but despite better judgement continues, “I have not seen you for a while.”

“I was visiting Shiratorizawa,” Oikawa responds, stepping over to a beautiful white mare. His favorite, Iwaizumi knows. The one he prefers to ride. The one he prefers to dress himself. He pets her mane before readying to take her out.

“How was your trip?” Iwaizumi asks, fingers digging into his horse’s mane.

“Fine. Going over the last few details for things.” Oikawa sighs, helping the horse out of her stall once he’s got her reigns on. She’s magnificent. He’s magnificent, next to her. Dressed in his riding uniform, pristine white pants and dark thick boots, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Iwaizumi keeps his gaze on Pumpkin.

“Right. It’s soon isn’t?” Iwaizumi swallows.

“Yeah,” Oikawa mounts, looking out toward the open gate, “Once Ushiwaka-chan turns 18 in August.”

Iwaizumi nods. The horse shakes her head, uncomfortable with his tight grip. He loosens it, removing his hand entirely from her, “Ah.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Oikawa murmurs, before kicking his horse into a trot, leaving the stables with not even a second glance.

Iwaizumi watches him go, turning to press his forehead against the wooden post of the stall. He lets out a frustrated sigh. Why is it not easier? Four years and it’s still not even a slight bit easier. He doesn’t understand it. He can’t comprehend it.

He takes in a calming breath, steels himself for the rest of the day.

He heads back to the barracks. There are young trainees running around, sparring between each other as instructors shout. He smiles at them, stepping over to a lonely girl and offering to spar with her. It’s a nice distraction. The girl’s form is good, she simply lacks training, and Iwaizumi is happy playing target practice for a few hours.

He passes the time between the trainees, lending the instructors a hand as he goes. It’s nice being in the castle grounds and not off on assignment. Though he knows he’ll be sent somewhere else soon enough. He wonders where he’ll be going next. Hopefully something more exciting then babysitting a noble taking a trip to the countryside.

Iwaizumi hears a familiar gruff voice fill his ears with shouting. He sighs, handing back his wooden sword to one of the trainees, and giving a small wave. He heads to the source of the sound, unsurprised by what he finds.

Kyoutani has Yahaba up against the wall, snarling expletives at the smug face the other man is wearing. Iwaizumi lets out a sigh, “Kyoutani!” he barks.

Kyoutani releases Yahaba, who dusts himself off calmly in turn.

“He’s spying on us.” Kyoutani accuses, “I know it.”

“He’s not spying on us.” Iwaizumi sighs, “There’s nothing to spy on. We’re all on the same side here. Also you’ve known each other for years! When’s this nonsense gonna stop?”

“I think it’s how he shows his affection,” Yahaba offers with a teasing smile.

“Fuck off,” Kyoutani growls, throwing a punch that Yahaba dodges easily.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “Enough, already. Yahaba, stop egging him on.”

“Fine, fine.” Yahaba replies, “How are you, Iwaizumi? It’s nice to see you again.”

“Good as always, not much to complain about, other than wrangling him.” Iwaizumi adds with a playful smirk. Kyoutani growls, crossing his arms.

Yahaba giggling into his hand, “Thank you for your service.”

Iwaizumi snorts. He scratches at the back of his neck, hesitating before asking, “How was Shiratorizawa? That’s where you were, right?”

“Same as always,” Yahaba sighs, shoulders drooping, “Prince Tooru spends the entire time with Prince Wakatoshi until he retires to his room to study alone. It’s dreadfully boring to sit around and do nothing.”

“I’m sure he talks your ear off with his complaints,” Iwaizumi chuckles.

Yahaba blinks, “No, he’s pretty subdued when we visit. It’s probably tiring to decide so many things for the wedding and everything else.” Something flits across the attendants face, something Iwaizumi can’t quite decipher, but it’s gone in a moment and Yahaba conitnues more cheerfully, “It’s fun when we travel through the countryside. There’s so much farmland in Shiratorizawa, the stars are absolutely beautiful out there! Prince Tooru and Prince Wakatoshi spend most of their evenings stargazing, which means I get to see all the constellations too.”

“Right,” Iwaizumi says, heart squeezing in his chest, “I’m glad they’re getting along, then.”

Yahaba nods, “Prince Tooru’s been very agreeable about everything lately. He and the King haven’t had a fight in so long, it’s been wonderful.”

“Really?”

“He’s maturing.” Yahaba supplies with a teasing smile. Iwaizumi snorts, and he hopes it covers up the grimace from the bad taste in his mouth.

Kyoutani huffs, injecting himself into the conversation, “Prince this Prince that. Can we stop talking about useless aristocrats.”

“Disrespect Prince Wakatoshi all you want, but you know I don’t stand for badmouthing ours,” Iwaizumi warns, slapping Kyoutani on the arm lightly.

“You’re so whipped man. It’s been four years and you’re still his dog. It’s pathetic.”

“Says the man who growls like a wild animal at the drop of a hat.” Yahaba points out.

Kyoutani growls at him, then stops when Yahaba raises his eyebrow accusingly. Kyoutani’s ears redden and he snarls out a goodbye before hunkering away. Iwaizumi shakes his head as he watches him go, before looking back at Yahaba.

“You’re doing a great job taking care of him,” Iwaizumi says.

Yahaba smiles, his first sincere expression this entire conversation, “Thank you, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi nods, giving him a small wave goodbye before trotting back after Kyoutani. Yahaba turns the other way, padding over to the castle proper as the sun sinks down below the horizon.

When Iwaizumi lays down in his stiff cot, he thinks about Oikawa. It is an agonizing routine that he could never quite get rid of. Tonight, however, he lets the memories come unabated, worry fermenting in his stomach from Yahaba’s words. Fears that Oikawa may be giving up finally swirl within him.

He knows this is the better option, to retire to Shiratorizawa, rather than be revealed as a monster the Prince never was. But it still pains him to think the fire in Oikawa’s eyes has gone out. He wonders if there is anything at all he could do to stop the wedding without harming Oikawa in anyway.

It was an idea that had plagued him more and more in recent months. An idea he had no right to entertain. He made his decision long ago. To seperate himself, to no longer be part of the equation. To not play the part of villanous accomplice, which in turn, meant giving up the possibility of playing hero.

Still, he can’t help ruminating on different scenarios. Different hopes and dreams. Habits die hard, and Iwaizumi could never stop his mind from worrying about Oikawa, no mattter how many times he tried.

He could kill the King, but that would be nearly impossible, and the Queen would most likely simply follow through with the original command. He could take Oikawa away, far away, but where would they go? And at this point, would Oikawa even go with him? They had not held a conversation for longer than five minutes in years.

He feels a headache fermenting in his skull and he drapes his arm over his eyes. He was never good at coming up with plans, had always been much better at executing them. He rolls onto his side and drifts into unrestful sleep.

* * *

“At attention everyone!”

Iwaizumi looks up from his card game with some of the other Knights, watching as everyone starts to scramble into a line. He stands up, making his way over to stand beside Kyoutani. He nudges his shoulder to remind him to stop slouching.

The guard who made the order steps away, and in his stead, three royals make their way into the mess hall of the barracks. Like a wave, the Knights all bow at the sight of them, and Iwaizumi makes sure to tug Kyoutani down too, especially since it seems they have a guest in their home.

“Gwaah! So cool!”

Oikawa chuckles, a hand coming over his mouth, “Why thank you Prince Shouyou, Aoba Johsai prides itself on their knights.”

“Gwaah’s not even a word.” Prince Tobio grumbles with his arms crossed beside them.

“You’re not even a word.” Prince Shouyou counters.

“That doesn’t even make any sense, dumbass!”

Oikawa claps his hands together, “Tobio-chan, why don’t _you_ lead the rest of the tour for _your_ guest, hmm? We would not want to bore Prince Shouyou during his Grand Debut.”

Prince Tobio sends his older brother a glare before stepping away from the foreign prince to take the lead, “This is the barracks,” he mutters, matter of factly, “Where the knights live and train.”

“Ooh! Can we see them train?” Prince Shouyou asks, eyes suddenly sparkling at the possiblity.

Prince Tobio shrugs, “Kindaichi!” he calls, “Go ask Iwaizumi if we can watch them train.”

Kindaichi’s eye seems to twitch behind him. Iwaizumi sees Yahaba send the boy a warning look. Kindaichi straightens up to walk unnecessarily over to Iwaizumi, who could hear everything already, and ask between gritted teeth, “Iwaizumi, would it be possible for our guests to watch you train?”

Iwaizumi gives him an apologetic smile, “Of course, if the Princes would be so kind as to follow me to the training area outside, I would be glad to show them our sparring techniques.”

Prince Shouyou claps his own hands, jumping up down in his giddiness at the prospect of a show. Prince Tobio looks disgusted at the reaction, but Iwaizumi’s eyes are caught on Oikawa’s. They linger, gazes matched, before Iwaizumi tears his away to call for some sparring partners to come with him. He doesn’t look back.

Yahaba and Kindaichi carry out seats for the royals. Oikawa waves them off, preferring to stand for the show. Iwaizumi takes a sword from one of the pages, his sparring partner mirroring him before taking the field. He cracks his neck, flexing his grip on the long sword, flashing his eyes over the field.

Prince Shouyou has stars in his eyes. Prince Tobio does as well, though he seems to be trying to hide it.

Oikawa is staring straight at him.

Iwaizumi swallows, looking away, and he realizes, instantaneously, that Oikawa has never seen him spar before. A heat courses through his veins, blood pulsing, heart beating, and he zeroes in on his partner. His grip on his sword tightens.

The match begins.

Iwaizumi wastes no time lunging at his opponent, surefooted and confident. He jabs at the woman’s leg, but she dodges, bringing her own sword up to counter his. They parry and he springs back, already bringing his sword up to block her slice at his shoulder. He puts some force in the block, pushing her back.

He rushes forward as she stumbles from the force, swinging his sword into her side. She takes a step back, but she isn’t fast enough, and the sword taps her. One point. Iwaizumi grins, sending a triumphant look at his audience. Prince Tobio claps, Prince Shouyou cheers, but Oikawa isn’t looking.

Iwaizumi’s shoulders sag.

Yahaba and Oikawa are conversing in hushed tones, and Iwaizumi strains to hear what they could be discussing, while springing away from his opponent’s attempts. He plays defensive, dodging and countering, trying to maneuver himself closer to the conversation.

A hit on his shoulder brings him back. One point to her.

“Woah!” Prince Shouyou shouts, at the edge of his seat.

Iwaizumi grits his teeth, tearing his eyes away from Oikawa to focus back on the match. The women, Ayame, is grinning at him, bangs slick with sweat. She raises an eyebrow and Iwaizumi’s holds his sword out, ready.

Ayame springs first, bringing her sword around with her to hit his shin. He jumps, back, sending his sword down to hit her back. But her weapon is already drawn up to block. She steps back, and the pair lock themselves into a series of parries, steel hitting steel in loud clashes. They dance together, skilled and magnificent, neither refusing to give way.

Iwaizumi strains to find an opening in her defense, waiting patiently for her to stumble. Finally, she makes a misstep, and Iwaizumi is able to land a tap to her thigh. She groans in annoyance, sending a seething glare. He smiles at her.

She sighs, nodding, and the pair sheath they’re swords. They step forward, exchanging a firm handshake, “One day, Iwaizumi.”

“Probably soon,” Iwaizumi concedes with a breathy laugh in his voice. He’s winded.

Her brown eyes shine at the complement. He pats her shoulder before turning back to his audience. The two knights bow deeply. “I hope that was to your liking, Prince Shouyou,” he calls out.

Prince Shouyou applauds, getting up from his chair for a standing ovation. Prince Tobio stands as well. Oikawa is gone.

Iwaizumi forces on a smile, “What is next on the schedule for our guest, Prince Tobio?”

Prince Tobio purses his lips, face drawn up in a signature scowl that Iwaizumi has come to believe is just his neutral expression, “We were going to walk through the orchards.”

“Would you like me to accompany you?” Iwaizumi asks, flicking his eyes to Kindaichi whose expression seems to be crying out to him for help.

“Yes!” Prince Shouyou shouts, excited at the prospect of an accomplished knight as his escort.

Iwaizumi bows, “Lead the way, sire.”

As the four of them walk toward the orchards, Iwaizumi falls into step with Kindaichi, “It’s been a while, Kindaichi.”

Kindaichi looks at him with a sense of awe, “You’ve become an amazing knight, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi smiles, “Thanks.”

“I truly envy you,” Kindaichi continues, looking back at the princes with scorn in his eyes, “I would give anything to be doing something as worthwhile as training to be a knight.”

“Your job is incredibly important.” Iwaizumi assures.

“He’s awful, Iwaizumi,” Kindaichi mutters instead, “He cares only for himself and has such a foul mouth. I never have a moments peace! It’s as if he doesn’t realize I’m a person too.”

Iwaizumi squeezes his shoulder, “I know it’s difficult. I--Oh, should we, stop them?” he interrupts himself, seeing as the two princes have started sprinting away as fast as they can toward the oncoming trees.

“No, they’ve doing that all weekend.” Kindaichi sighs, “I’m in charge of remembering the tally.”

“Really?” Iwaizumi blinks, watching the Princes pull and snap at each other as they weave through the grounds, screaming as they go, “I’ve never seen the young Prince so...animated.”

“It’s tiring.” Kindaich huffs, “But I guess we should catch up.”

“I’m glad Prince Tobio has finally made a friend. Maybe this is what he needs to start changing his poor attitude.”

Kindaichi snorts, “I doubt it.”

The pair shift into a light jog to catch up to the princes. The two royals have exhausted themselves against a tree, sweat dripping from their brows. Through their ragged breaths they continue to argue who came first.

It is a scene so youthful and sweet, Iwaizumi can’t help thinking of his own fun he had made with Oikawa at his side, and the words stumble out of his mouth without his permission, “Where did Prince Tooru go?”

Kindaichi flicks his gaze to him with a shrug, “The King has been keeping him busy doing all sort of things in preparation for the wedding.”

“Ah, of course.” Iwaizumi swallows, bringing his head up to scratch the back of his neck.

Kindaichi nods solemnly, “Ever since the Queen fell ill, the King has been very demanding of Prince Tooru.”

Iwaizumi blinks, swiveling his head to the side, “The Queen is ill?”

Kindaichi reddens, eyes widening, he holds his hands up, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I assumed you would know. I...Please, keep this information to yourself. I’m sorry.”

Iwaizumi takes Kindaichi’s arm, pulling him away from the bickering princes trying to outdo each other in apple picking, “Kindaichi, tell me, what is the King having Prince Tooru do?”

Kindaichi looks sweaty, eyes constantly flickering around, “I don’t know. But Prince Tooru has not been bickering with him much as of late. He drops everything to do what he asks of him.”

Iwaizumi frowns, grip on Kindaichi’s arm tightening, “Has Prince Tooru been able to see his mother?”

Kindaichi swallows, “I don’t know. He’s not there when Prince Tobio visits her.”

“When does Prince Tobio visit her?”

“Whenever he wishes to?” Kindaichi winces, “Iwaizumi, you’re hurting me.”

Iwaizumi releases him, taking a step back, “Could you send the princes my apologies, I just remembered I have something to attend to,” he murmurs. “Oh, and, you should probably stop them from climbing that tree before they get hurt.”

Kindaichi turns his head around, groaning, “Prince Tobio!”

Iwaizumi slips away, measured steps turning into a sprint as he heads back into the barracks. He passes servants, butlers and maids all running about the grounds as normal. They all wave and call to him, but he’s too distracted to return their greetings. He pushes his way through swarming trainees and finally makes it back to the barracks.

He glances about the mess hall, eyes scanning the many people before laying eyes on cropped blond hair and dark lined eyes. He wades over, grabbing Kyoutani’s arm unceremoniously and pulling him free of whatever argument he was having. He drags the grumbling teen out of the mess hall entirely, into one of the side hallways.

“What the fuck?” Kyoutani barks.

“Hey, I need you to tell me where I can find Yahaba.”

“How the hell would I know?”

“I need to know where Yahaba is right now.”

Kyoutani glares at him, and then his eyes flick to the sky in thought, “I don’t know, I haven’t seen him since the rich kids interrupted us a while ago. He’s probably in the castle with the Prince or something.”

Iwaizumi lets out an aggravated noise, “Is that really all you know? Are you planning on seeing him at all today?”

“Why would I ever _want_ to see that idiot?” Kyoutani snaps, pulling free of the elder knight’s hold, “What are you freaking out about?”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“You’re fucking _trembling_.” Kyoutani points, “You’re a bad liar, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi grits his teeth, closing his eyes and taking a moment to breath, “I just, I just need to talk to Yahaba.”

Kyoutani purses his lips, eyebrows low, “I know where he might be, tonight. When the moon is just starting to creep up, sometimes he hangs out at the servants exit near the west end of the castle.”

Iwaizumi claps him on the back as thanks, but Kyoutani just sends him off with a grumble, ears red at his admittance.

The day passes on slowly. Iwaizumi keeps busy, as best he can, but nothing speeds up the gruelingly slow pace. He can’t help flicking his green gaze up at the castle constantly, worry slowing his movements, making his practices sluggish.

Finally, _finally_ , the sun sets in the horizon and the knights start to turn in for the night. He makes to do so as well, getting into his cot. He waits, lying in silence until he can hear the tell tale sounds of the other men sleeping. Once he’s certain enough time has passed, he slips out of his bed, creeping silently out of the barracks entirely.

He moves across the grounds stealthily, keeping away from the night guards with ease. He had long ago memorized their schedule. He takes a circuitous route, cutting through the orchards. He pauses a second, eyes catching on a thick piece of wood on the ground. He picks it up and keeps moving.

He soon reaches the west exit, deciding to lean against the castle wall. The moon peaks out between thick clouds, its light minimal and haunting. Iwaizumi pulls his knife out, whittling at the wood in his other hand to pass the time.

By the time the door creaks open, Iwaizumi has finished the body of his wood piece. He had been so consumed by his work he startles at the sudden interruption. Yahaba jumps in turn, eyes widening at the unexpected visiter. He catches himself before he lets out a shout.

“Iwaizumi? What are you doing here?” he hisses.

Iwaizumi sheathes his knife, slipping it back into his pocket, “I need to talk to you.”

Yahaba glances behind him into the darkened hallway, “Alright,” he murmurs, stepping out completely, “But we must be quick.”

Iwaizumi nods, taking a few paces away from the door to a more secluded spot. Yahaba follows on his tiptoes, careful not to step on any falling twigs.

Iwaizumi has never been one for subtlety, so he decides to cut to the chase, “How long has the Queen been ill?”

Yahaba’s eyes are wider than the saucers the King feasts on and Iwaizumi lets out a brisk sigh, “Yes, I know she’s ill. Let’s move past that. How long?”

Yahaba swallows, eyes scanning the area quickly before ducking his head down, “I’m not sure. Prince Tooru found out a few months ago but...”

“But who knows the truth, right,” Iwaizumi sighs, squeezing his nose with his fingers, “Has Prince Tooru been able to see his mother?”

Yahaba looks down, “A few times.”

Iwaizumi takes a breath, “A few times in the past few months?”

Yahaba nods.

Iwaizumi clenches his teeth, “And I’m guessing, it’s in exchange for compliance?”

Yahaba looks away.

Iwaizumi punches the wall they are leaning against.

Yahaba blinks, “Iwaizumi, please, calm down.”

“I am calm!” Iwaizumi seethes. He takes a breath, repeats himself in a softer tone, “I am calm.”

“Believe me, I am upset too, but the King’s word is law.”

“How is Prince Tooru?”

Yahaba scratches the back of his neck, swatting at a pesky fly, “He’s doing well, all things considered. I haven’t really noticed anything different. He just hasn’t bickered with the King much at all. He’s been keeping to his studies in his room mostly.”

“What is the King making him do?”

“I don’t know. I’m never allowed in those conversations. Prince Tooru doesn’t complain about them anymore so I can’t even infer. Although, he seemed pretty upset after a recent talk.”

“How so?”

“Just, I don’t know, upset. He wouldn’t talk to me about it. Just locked himself in his room and dismissed me for the rest of the day. He had a gift in his hand from his father it seemed, an early birthday present I assumed.”

Iwaizumi nods, letting out a breath, “Alright, thank you Yahaba.”

Yahaba flicks his gaze back at the door, “Iwaizumi, I...I think if you are so worried, perhaps you should talk to the Prince himself?”

“It’s not my place.”

Yahaba licks his lips, “Iwaizumi, why is it that you keep your distance? From what everyone has told me these past few years, the Prince and you were quite close, and I don’t understand why --“

“You should head back up Yahaba. Thank you for speaking with me.”

* * *

Iwaizumi does not see Oikawa again for another week. The Prince is supremely busy, and Iwaizumi is preparing for his own future assignment. It is still unclear exactly where his squadron will go, but he hopes to be useful wherever it be.

While walking the castle grounds on break he finds Oikawa, sitting under one of the apple orchards. Iwaizumi almost misses him entirely. The Prince is dressed relatively plainly, no jewels to be found on his person, and his hair is empty of it’s usual sparkling tiara.

He is curled up at the tree, long legs drawn up to form a perch for the thick book balanced on his knees. But once Iwaizumi sees him, he can not un-see him. He moves toward the royal, despite the apprehension, despite the waves of feeling that hit him, whispering in his ears, _turn away, do not come near._

He stops at the Prince’s feet, standing above him, “Prince Tooru,” he greets.

Oikawa snaps the book shut with a start, head jerking up to look at the intruder, eyes tinted red and wide with surprise, “Iwa-ch, Iwaizumi? How did you find me?”

Iwaizumi licks his lips, fingers clenching into his palms. His heart constricts in his chest and he decides he’s feeling a bit tired. That is why he decides to sit down, beside the Prince instead of answering his question.

Oikawa’s look is guarded as he does so, hands gripping onto his thick leather bound book, “What are you doing here?”

Iwaizumi keeps his gaze outward, focusing on the trees around him, “I was walking the grounds on break.”

Oikawa does not seem convinced, keeping his own gaze away. They sit in silence for a while, centimeters apart but worlds away. Oikawa opens up his book, returning to his reading, perhaps to save himself from the unbearable quiet.

Iwaizumi in turn takes out his wood project, slipping his knife out and beginning to carve away. He can feel Oikawa’s curious gaze, but whenever he flicks his eyes over to him, the Prince is glued to his book. But Iwaizumi _feels_ it, swears he does, like this overwhelming pressure on his shoulder. A longing, a desire.

 _Talk to me_ , it whispers in his ears, _why did you go so far?_

Iwaizumi has never been averse to silence, but in this moment it feels suffocating. Perhaps he is no longer use to Oikawa’s presence, perhaps Oikawa has improved his royal intimidation, but regardless of why, Iwaizumi can’t bear it much longer.

He speaks up, “What are you reading?”

Oikawa looks up, and the pressure on Iwaizumi’s shoulder seems to slacken. Oikawa’s face looks conflicted, but instead of responding, he hands the other man the object in question.

Iwaizumi is surprised by it’s weight, heavy in his hands. He runs his fingers along the golden lettering, along the cover, written in a script too fanciful for him to decipher. He opens the book carefully, trying not to breath in the dust. The pages crinkle with age, the ink a bit worn in places.

Iwaizumi bites his lip, heat rising to his face self consciously as the words attack his eyes. A foreign landscape he can’t decipher. He flicks his gaze about the page, desperate for any kind of grip on it. He finds simple words, _the, dark, night, horns,_ but most of it is lost to him.

“I,” he voices, swallowing as he returns the book, “I haven’t read anything in a long time.”

Oikawa pushes the book back into his hands, scooting closer until his side is pressed against Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi feels himself curl inward instinctively, and he feels silly for it. Oikawa’s arm comes over to maneuver the book in Iwaizumi’s hand, opening it up to the first page, fingers running along the lines and reading aloud, “The Trouble with Demons, an Ongoing Investigation into the Dark and Arcane Magic of the Creatures Plaguing our Forest.”

Iwaizumi feels sweat pooling at his brow, “Our forest?”

Oikawa shakes his head, face moving even closer, finger gliding through the page to follow the line below the title, “An Account by Akaashi Keiji.”

“Akaashi Keiji,” Iwaizumi repeats, brow furrowing with a hint of recognition.

Oikawa smiles, wide and glinting, “A member of Fukurodani Court,” he explains.

Iwaizumi blinks, and then, as if compelled, regurgitates, “Close friend and scribe to Prince Koutarou.”

“You remember.”

Iwaizumi snaps the book shut, shoving it back into the Prince’s arms. He stands up, abruptly, clutching his wood carving tightly in his hands.

“You’re going?” Oikawa comments, tone unsurprised, but eyes shielded. There’s something almost bored in the way he says it.

“I have to return to my duties,” Iwaizumi forces out, tongue heavy in his mouth.

“Have fun playing with swords,” Oikawa bites back, opening up his book and not sparing Iwaizumi another glance.

Iwaizumi grits his teeth but does not look back as he walks away. He keeps walking, feet taking him past the barracks, to the edge of the castle grounds that look out at the forest beyond. He lets out a breath he had been holding, rears his arm back and throws the wooden fox as far as he can. He watches at it slips behind the tree line, gone. Out of sight. Out of mind.

Lost.

Iwaizumi wonders if this all has been pointless.

* * *

Iwaizumi is mid spar with a young trainee when he feels it. It is a guttural emotion, like a slice through his heart, emptying him out. Making him cold. He stops mid lunge, and he turns his head to the castle. No one else seems to feel it. The dread. The emptiness.

And then Iwaizumi hears it, faint in the wind but horrendously loud in his ears.

An inhuman wail reaches him.

Before he can register it he has thrown his sword to the ground, has run up to the castle and pushed his way through. Servants call to him in surprise, mostly friendly, some worried by his erratic behavior. He pays them no mind, the castle hallways still familiar to him even after all of these years. He takes the ornate steps two at a time.

He hears pounding on wood, frantic clawing, desperate calls unanswered. He turns the corner and he sees him. He sees Oikawa, banging on the door, sees Yahaba’s conflicted face behind him, sees the guard’s unmoving stances. And Oikawa looks over, as if he knew Iwaizumi was coming, and his eyes have no shields up, no attempt to seem superior, no desperation to pretend that everything is fine, no need to show himself so unaffected. Instead they are cloudy, lost and rimmed with tears. And they are begging him for help.

“He won’t let me in,” he hisses.

Iwaizumi wastes no time turning to the guards, “Give me the key.”

“Iwaizumi, it’s orders from the King.” The guard mutters, trying to keep his eyes away from the scene. Iwaizumi steps into his line of sight.

“He wants to see his mother.”

“Iwaizumi--“

“Let him see his mother!” Iwaizumi roars, because how can the world be so cruel? So indifferent? So callous?

The guard swallows at the roar, shame coloring his face as he pulls the key from his pocket.

Iwaizumi nods, taking it from his hands, “You can blame me if the King is upset,” he offers, before turning the key and opening the door.

Oikawa wastes no time stumbling in, and Iwaizumi gives one glance at Yahaba-- _stay_ \--before following after the Prince and closing the door.

Inside, the King has stood up from his chair, anger filling his eyes at the sight of the first Prince. His gaze sweeps toward Iwaizumi, who’s look is it’s own kind of fury: cold, righteous, and just begging to be provoked. Prince Tobio stands by the window, his own face twisted up into anger. But his is the grieving kind, with the world as its target and with tears caked down his face.

Oikawa is already beside his resting mother, fingers clutching at her limp hands. He is not crying; he is whispering, softly, words that not even Iwaizumi can hear. The Queen does not react, laid down in her bed. Iwaizumi already knows why. Has known since the moment he heard Oikawa’s wail. Has known since he had felt the coldness seep into his heart.

The Queen is dead.

Oikawa’s grip on her hands tightens as he stands. So tight, his knuckles are painted white. The King rises once more, “You’re hurting her,” he snaps, voice gruff and commanding.

That is when Oikawa loses it.

Iwaizumi had not seen it happen in years, but his eyes are not surprised in the slightest as the darkness seems to overtake the Prince. How his aura becomes palpable, suffocating, morose. How his horns seem to appear, thick and spiraling from his nestle of brown hair. How his hands grow talons, how his face scrunches into a snarl jammed with canines. How his ears pinch up and his thin tail lashes about in warning.

Prince Tobio lets out a startled noise, body moving back into the wall. Iwaizumi wonders if he has ever seen his brother like this. If he has always known the truth but never fully realized its implications.

The King reacts as he always has, with a terrified gleam in his eye at the sight of the monster dwelling within his home. Iwaizumi can read his eyes then, open and scared, and knows he will call for the guards to burst in. And everything will be known. That even in the throws of utter grief and loss, Oikawa has no right to be anything but in control.

Iwaizumi steps forward, reaching out his hand to place it on Oikawa’s shoulder. The reaction is immediate, like Iwaizumi had somehow pressed the off button on Oikawa’s demonic ancestry. There was a demon in the room seconds before, but now just a prince.

Iwaizumi squeezes the shoulder. Oikawa shrugs him off. Iwaizumi takes his forearm then, fingers squeezing, _let me help you_. There is tension in Oikawa’s arm, it trembles in his grip but finally relaxes, acquiesces. Oikawa has no strength to be stubborn in this moment.

It does not feel like a victory in the slightest.

Iwaizumi leads him out of the room all together, passing the keys back to the guard and informing Yahaba he is dismissed for the day. The pair walk silently, Iwaizumi taking the lead as he takes the Prince up once familiar stairs and down the hallway to the Prince’s chambers.

When Iwaizumi opens the door he is struck by how little has changed and how everything is different. The bed does not seem as big as he knew it, the chess set has been replaced by stacks of books and papers, there are scratches all along the walls. But other than that, he remembers this place as home.

Iwaizumi takes Oikawa further into the room before letting him go to close the door. Oikawa still has not said anything, has barely looked at him. So Iwaizumi swallows down some nervous spit and takes a seat in one of the chairs, “You can let it out now.”

The comment opens a flood gate. In an instant, Oikawa’s aura has returned to him, but he spreads it out, consuming the entire room. Even Iwaizumi is caught in it, a cold sweat building on his back as an unnatural dread fills his chest. His eyes dart up, fearfully as Oikawa lets out a scream, so inhuman and dark that it chills Iwaizumi’s bones.

Oikawa snarls at him, but that is the last time he is of focus. Instead, the demon turns toward his shelves of books, knocking them off their perch in a swell of fury. They fly about the room as he screams and claws and tears and cries. Tears finally released from their prisons, flowing down his face freely.

There’s another scream, and Oikawa throws a dagger into the wall, watching it embed into the stone with his inhuman strength. Oikawa rushes toward it, prying it out and shoving it back in with the desperate obsessiveness of a man who has lost everything.

Iwaizumi only watches.

Eventually, Oikawa abandons this endeavor and abandons his anger. His demonic aura returns to press up against him and only him. He collapses on his bed, face down and unmoving.

Iwaizumi stands up.

“Oikawa,” He murmurs, coming over to the bed, fingers twitching but remaining firmly at his sides, “I’m so _sorry_.”

Oikawa snarls at him, animalistic and angry, “You have no right to be _sorry_!”

“Oikawa, I-“

“Why are you even here? What gives you any right to speak to me with such familiarity?” The Prince seethes, turning his body to the side to face the knight.

Iwaizumi looks away, guilt sinking his gut down, making it hard to support himself on his legs, “I know,” is all he can muster to say.

It is the wrong thing to say, “Get out of here! Go! I don’t want to see you a moment longer!”

Iwaizumi turns away, but he does not leave. He will not leave. The pointlessness of all his efforts weighs heavily on his shoulders. He had run from this for so long, had tried desperately to cut himself free, and yet none of it had made any difference. He still ran for the Prince at the sound of a muffled wail. And his simple touch still calmed the demon’s wrath. All of it had been for nothing.

Iwaizumi’s green eyes flick toward the dagger in the wall. He walks over to it, wrapping his hand around the leather grip and tugging. He grits his teeth, using all of his strength to free it from its constrains. He’s not embarrassed by how much effort it takes, nor how much sweat builds on his brow as he tries. He is full of admiration for his Prince, despite everything.

When he frees it finally, he turns it, watching the light catch its polished surface. He runs his fingers along the blade, marveling at it’s sharpness, at its slight curve. The pommel is carved with intricate swirling designs. It’s a beautiful dagger. But then he swallows, realization hitting him hard and fast.

He turns to Oikawa. The Prince has not moved from his place on the bed, turned on his side. His brown eyes, however, have followed his every move. Iwaizumi stares at him, “This is silver.”

“So it is,” Oikawa responds with a shrug, flipping himself onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

“Why do you have a silver dagger?” Iwaizumi asks, grip on the weapon tightening.

“Early gift from my father,” Oikawa sighs, “Happy Birthday to me.”

Iwaizumi takes a step forward, feels his hand shake around the dagger. He repeats, “Why did your father give you a _silver_ dagger?”

Oikawa sits up with a huff, annoyed, “Why do you _think_ , Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi’s face is a thin line. Suddenly, the dagger feels hot in his own hands, like it will burn _him_ somehow if he holds onto it a second longer. He throws it at the wooden door, watching it pierce easily and stick straight out.

Oikawa snorts, watching Iwaizumi rub a hand over his face with a detached look, “It’s sweet of him isn’t it? Do you know what he told me when he gave it to me?”

Iwaizumi looks over at him.

Oikawa’s smile is devoid of anything. It is empty and yet it takes up half his face, “He said, Tooru, you’ve been so good these past few months. Here, I want you to have this. I want you to have _options_.”

Oikawa’s breath catches on the last words, caught in his throat and reverberating into a humorless laugh. Tears prickle at his eyes. Iwaizumi feels his mouth open, eyebrows furrowing, “Options?”he repeats, the word hollow.

“So many,” Oikawa recovers, looking back up at the ceiling to blink away the pesky tears, “Would you like me to list them?”

Iwaizumi would not.

“Kill Ushijima after the wedding and blame it on bandits. I gain control of Shiratorizawa and become my father’s puppet. Kill Ushijima and then myself, to cut out the middle man. Kill myself, and my Father’s problem disap-.”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi breathes, and it sounds like a wheeze from the way the words squeeze out of his closing throat.

Oikawa shakes his head, “I don’t want to hear anything from you. You _left_ me.”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi tries again, desperate, sad, alone, _terrified_.

Oikawa hates that it gets to him, “Stop it. Stop it with that face. You have no right to give me that face!”

“Oikawa.”

Oikawa sits up, turning away, “You don’t need to worry. I am not going to kill Ushiwaka.”

The silence after the statement is too much for Iwaizumi. He finds himself climbing onto the bed, fingers digging into princely shoulders, grip trembling, “And? _And?”_

Oikawa does not look at him.

“Oikawa, Oikawa, look at _me_.” Iwaizumi pleads.

“I have nothing.” Oikawa hisses, “I don’t have anything left, Iwaizumi. She’s _gone_.”

“I’m here.” Iwaizumi pleads.

Oikawa shakes his head, “You’re a liar.”

“You know I’m a terrible liar. Oikawa, look at me. I’m here. I’m right here. _Please_.”

And Oikawa looks at him, and it breaks Iwaizumi. Right in half, down the middle, and he clutches at the boy. Because he may be almost eighteen but he is just a _boy_. Iwaizumi’s grip is tight, his wet face burrowing into the crook of Oikawa’s neck.

Oikawa swallows and there’s a hesitation before he wraps his arms around him as well, fingers digging into the knight’s back. And now they are both shaking, trembling, lost, _terrified_.

“Why did you leave?” Oikawa whispers.

“I was scared.” Iwaizumi murmurs into his neck.

“Scared of what?” Oikawa begs, because this has tortured him for so long, for _years_.

“Of this.” Iwaizumi pulls his face free so his words are not muffled. Oikawa shakes his head, _this_ is a silly thing to be afraid of. To leave him for.

“The King, he,” Iwaizumi starts, words pouring from him now that Oikawa has pried free the plug.

“Of course, _he’s_ behind this too,” Oikawa seethes, words like venom as they drip onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

“He told me, he would use me, to ruin you.” Iwaizumi explains, stilted, “He would hurt me, and you would reveal yourself.”

“He _threatened_ you?” Oikawa growls, eyes flashing, teeth growing and Iwaizumi’s brows furrow as he tightens his grip.

“Do you see? Do you see why I had to leave?” he hisses, “It would work. It would all be because of me.”

“It would not matter if it worked, if he were ever to harm you he would know my wrath, this _kingdom_ would know my wrath, I would--“

Iwaizumi shushes him, squeezing his shoulders tightlyto get him to retreat back his foreboding aura, to blink away the red fury from his eyes, to dull his sharpened horns once more.

“I did not want to be your weakness,” Iwaizumi continues, letting his head hang, staring at the bed sheets beneath, “I could not be your weakness. I had to, I had to go. To change this. Or at least, to get stronger myself.”

A hand touches his face, lifting his head back up. Oikawa presses their foreheads together, hot breath mingling with his, “You could never be my weakness, Iwa-chan. You have always made me feel _invincible_.”

Iwaizumi clutches at him.

There is a knock at the door and they separate.

* * *

 

The funeral is a somber affair. The normally bright colors of the Aoba Johsai interior are replaced by darkness. Black banners hang from the windows to block the light, white flowers droop at the tables. The flag is taken down. The royals dress in gloomy colors.

It is a somber affair, but it is a _huge_ affair. The servants run around in a panic to prepare the castle for all of the visiting dignitaries. Lords and ladies from all over the countryside have come to pay their homage to the late Queen. It is she the country had known the longest, it is her blood that ties the family to this kingdom. It is she that has always held their hearts.

Royal emissaries from neighboring Kingdoms visit as well. Prince Wakatoshi is here, of course, visiting his grieving fiancé. Prince Kenji of Datekou pays a visit in the stead of his mother. Prince Shouyou and one of his fathers, King Koshi venture to the castle to give their respects.

There is a lot to be done for the visiting nobles. Food must be prepared, chambers cleaned and offered, servants assigned for hospitality’s sake. And then there is the conducting of the funeral itself, the decorations, although gloomy must be perfect, the placement of the casket of the utmost importance.

There is not a moments rest for the bottom rung of society within the castle walls. There is no time for them to grieve their fallen Queen, and yet they do. In the pockets of time allowed them, in the cracks of the wall, in the kitchen for just a moment, a stray tear here, a deep shaky breath there, a thick swallow in the corner.

Because they have lost a woman they had served since infancy, a kind woman, a noble woman, and they too feel it in their hearts.

It is in this sense of urgency and chaos that Iwaizumi blends back into the life of a castle servant. He excuses himself of his knightly duties, citing the fact that everyone needs to play their part in this trying time. This is something he has training in, and the castle servants are in terrible need of extra hands. It’s a noble sacrifice whispered of in the barracks, another point in favor of Iwaizumi Hajime, a ranking in the hearts and minds of his peers that grows every day whether he realizes it or not.

Iwaizumi’s reasonings, however, are not as selfless as his act makes them out to be. Because he longs to be back in the castle walls, longs to stand beside the Prince he had abandoned, needs to be there for him more than he can bear. Ever since the Queen’s death and their subsequent conversation, it has felt like a valve has been released from his heart. All the admiration, and trust, and love for his Prince hits him like a tidal wave and he finds himself drowning.

His only remedy is to make up for lost time. To make up for his foolishness. To be beside Oikawa once more.

And so he takes the chance to return to castle duties, helping out with anything he can as the preparations go under way. He checks on Oikawa throughout, stealing the Prince away for breaks from his own duties, as the son of the deceased.

Oikawa is somber during these days, his eyes darker, his voice lacking its normal playful lilt. He follows his father’s orders numbly: entertain these Lords and Ladies, pick which flowers should go where, write your specific eulogy, make it good, etc, etc. Iwaizumi’s conversations are a bright spot in his dark days, rekindling their friendship and warming his soul.

Prince Tobio is faring far worse, still young enough to feel the shock of mortality fully in the cavern of his chest. Loss is a difficult thing for anyone to understand. Not all children are presented with it as quickly as Iwaizumi, who had seen it over and over again in the orphanage. And not all children were dealt a cruel hand by fate as Oikawa was, reminded constantly of how tenuous their place on earth was.

No, Prince Tobio had lived a mostly carefree childhood with little consequence, and the loss of his mother destroys him.

It is rare for the siblings to find comfort in each other, rarer still for Oikawa to initiate these moments. But in these dark days, Iwaizumi sees it with his own eyes. Sees the moments Prince Tobio is lost in his anger--the only emotion he is comfortable with--face twisted at a servant ready to deliver some damning blows when Oikawa appears, calm, collected, whispering words in Prince Tobio’s ears that make his shoulders loosen. Sees the moments Prince Tobio is lost in his grief, staring at the large portrait of his mother the servants have brought out to the chapel, and Oikawa stands beside him, elbows sometimes touching.

And he sees it in their stilted conversations, far and few between, but _enough_.

“You look just like her.”

“Yes, but you were her baby and she adored you.”

And Iwaizumi thinks of how much Oikawa has grown, how he carries his grief on the shoulders of a man and no longer that of a petulant child. And for the first time, maybe, he sees the face of a King and not a Prince in his commanding brown gaze.

Oikawa is strong in all these moments. Strong as he organizes the funeral single handedly, strong as he smiles for his guests, strong as he keeps his cool. Strong as he stays in complete control of himself. And strong as he speaks with the servants, the only one to acknowledge their grief too. It is a point in his favor, building the love and affection the workers have for the charming prince who takes the time to know them as people.

Iwaizumi knows Oikawa, however, and knows this strength does not come without weakness. Does not come without exhaustion, and can only imagine the sorrow that fills the Prince’s heart once doors are closed. And he longs to alleviate him from his lonely battle, but there is never an opening. Never a moment for Iwaizumi to slip into his chambers for the evening. There is simply too much to do.

The King keeps to himself throughout this. He does not leave his room for hours at a time. His sons visit him and then go about with their duties assigned.

Iwaizumi sees him only at the funeral itself, presiding over it with a silent vacant stare. The Lords and Ladies have their heads bowed throughout. The servants keep their weeping quiet. Prince Tobio fights through his speech and his tears, his words more barks than anything. When he returns to his spot beside his brother and the other neighboring royals, Prince Shouyou tugs his hand. Prince Tobio grips it tightly in turn.

When Oikawa takes his turn on the stage, he smiles, and the world seems softer around the edges. His speech is simple, but his words drip love and adoration for his late mother that rumble through the hearts of the crowd. But even this takes its toll, as tears slip from his eyes as he speaks, voice wavering with emotion as he ends. It is enough to make Iwaizumi cry, wiping at his face with his sleeve.

There are claps and sniffles as Oikawa steps back into his spot beside his brother and fiancé. Prince Wakatoshi wraps a hand around his shoulder, the motion natural and familiar. Oikawa does not fight it, in fact, he turns his face into the foreign Prince’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around the other’s waist. It is a moment that makes Iwaizumi’s stomach drop in shock, makes his eyes tear away as if they had been staring at the sun. Makes his hands sweat at his side and his feet itch to leave.

The Lords and Ladies take their turns offering their own words for the fallen Queen. And at Oikawa’s prompting, a few servants summon the courage to speak. Iwaizumi thinks of doing the same, but he has never been good with words, has never felt sure of himself in that realm, and so he remains rooted to the spot.

After the funeral itself, the nobles retire to the entertainment rooms. Iwaizumi is quick to take some serving trays to enter one. He offers orderves to the higher class, recognizing a few faces. Lord Takahiro offers him a sad smile when he takes one of the offered treats from him, “Long time no see.”

Iwaizumi gives his own half smile, nodding his head, “It’s good to see you, sir.”

Lord Takahiro lets out a breath through his nose, “Matsukawa is here too, somewhere. We should have a little reunion some time. It’s been a while.”

“I’m sure it would lift the Prince’s mood to spend time with you,” Iwaizumi agrees.

Green eyes flick around the room to find the Prince in question, spotting him seated beside his fiancé. Prince Wakatoshi sips at his wine, leaning back in the sofa comfortably, arms spread out on the back. Oikawa sits with his thighs press against his, leaning forward, conversing with one of the Ladies.

Iwaizumi longs to hear the conversation.

“Iwaizumi!”

Iwaizumi swirls around toward Prince Tobio, who beckons him to his corner. The Prince looks furious, color clinging to his cheeks, “Do you know where Kindaichi is?” he glowers.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “What’s wrong, sire?”

“That idiot spilled his wine all over my shirt!” He hisses and Iwaizumi’s gaze flicks downward to a sheepishly grinning redhead. He bows to the foreign prince.

“Would you like me to help you change?”

Prince Tobio huffs, “No, I’ll just do it myself,” he grumbles, slipping out of the room. Prince Shouyou follows after him not so subtly, promising to help in someway to atone for his mistakes.

When Iwaizumi turns back around Oikawa is looking at him. His eyes hold a message that had once been so familiar to him, _I’m exhausted, I need you to get me out of here soon_.

Iwaizumi makes his way over, “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he murmurs, bowing, “Prince Tooru, I was just speaking with Prince Tobio and he would like to speak with you upstairs.”

Oikawa lets out a sigh, “Excuse me, my dears, it has been wonderful speaking with you all but my brotherly duties call. I hope to bless you with my presence soon enough,” he calls, giving an excessive bow to a round of excited giggles. He slips away then, and Iwaizumi makes to follow him.

“Iwaizumi.”

He turns again, tray extending out automatically. Ushijima has stood up from his perch on the sofa and at full height he towers over the servant boy. It surprises Iwaizumi, for a moment. The last time he had met the man they had been roughly the same size.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Iwaizumi coughs out quickly, bowing his head.

“I have been meaning to speak with you for a while, do you have a moment?”

Iwaizumi had been hoping to take this time to be with Oikawa, but he doesn’t know how to deny one of the most powerful people in the world. So instead he nods, following the man to a secluded corner.

“I am honored you remember me,” Iwaizumi comments, placing his tray down on the nearby side table.

“Tooru talks of you often,” Ushijima supplies easily, “I will not keep you from your work for long. How did you enjoy the book?”

Iwaizumi blinks, “The book?”

Ushijima frowns, “On thunderflies?”

Iwaizumi furrows his brows, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replies, and then, self consciously adds, “Sire.”

Ushijima looks puzzled, “Did Tooru not pass it to you?”

“I am afraid not.”

“That is a shame,” Ushijima murmurs, “Well, I will be sure to hand it to you myself next time. I don’t know if you recall our last meeting during Tooru’s debut, but you expressed an interest in thunderflies, so I had given Tooru a book to lend to you on the subject.”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi says, a conflicting pool of emotion swirling in his stomach, “Thank you.”

Ushijima waves him off, “Do not thank me for a book you never received. I will be sure to send it to you. Anyway, that is all. I will leave you to your duties.” The royal nods, turning away to rejoin the party.

Iwaizumi finds Oikawa upstairs, sitting on his bed, “Isn’t it terrible,” he sighs when Iwaizumi recounts this encounter to him, “I want to hate him, and I do hate him usually, but he can be so _decent_ most of the time.” He lies down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, “It pains me to say this but Prince Wakatoshi Ushijima is a good person at heart, and will no doubt be a great King, if a bit infuriatingly blunt at times.”

“How are you doing?” Iwaizumi asks, softly, fingers finding themselves combing through brown hair.

“Better than I expected,” Oikawa hums, “I just want today to end.”

Iwaizumi nods, fingers tracing his horns. Oikawa reaches up, fingers running along Iwaizumi’s arm until he grips him. He whispers, softly, “I miss her. I miss her so much.”

Iwaizumi holds his hand.

* * *

 

Lord Takahiro gets his wish almost a month later. As July gives way to August he is able to return to the Aoba Johsai castle grounds for Oikawa’s bachelor celebration.

The King has prepared a grand banquet for his first son’s leaving ceremony, and nobles from around the kingdom have made their way to give their congratulations. Mixed emotions flutter about the castle in preparation.

It has not been long since the Queen’s passing, and many had expected the wedding to be postponed. But the King is adamant to remain on schedule. The servants rush about the grounds, stripping the walls of their dark and gloom, refreshing them with their brilliant teal and white sparkles.

Iwaizumi hovers around, giving orders to the servants with a natural ease. They come to him, constantly, asking, “Would Prince Tooru prefer this wine? Or the other?”

“Iwaizumi, does Prince Tooru like roses or lilacs?”

“Iwaizumi, would Prince Tooru accept a parting gift from us? We are going to miss him.”

Iwaizumi fields these questions with simple answers full of expertise. It surprises him, how much he has retained after all of these years, how much of this is just innate knowledge.

It’s nice, to be distracted, to be needed by so many and therefore to be constantly busy. It means he has little time to dwell on the reality of the situation. That time is ticking. That very, very soon, Oikawa would be leaving the Aoba Johsai castle forever, and that Iwaizumi would be shipped off to some border to guard.

The celebration itself is a grandiose affair. Nobles give speeches on the competency of the First Prince. Many share their pride, share their stories, share their adoration. A few Lords and Ladies bemoan the fact the Prettiest Prince in all the Lands is soon to be officially off the market.

Oikawa takes all this with a gracious smile and his normal charming flair. He dances among them with calculated ease, pulling on heartstrings and assuaging fears. He gives speeches both humorous and serious, and the same thought plagues the crowds, the same question boggling the minds of the kingdom for years and years and years.

_Why are we sending our beloved Prince away?_

Again, Oikawa lets the servants speak their peace, smiling as they tear up, offering his well wishes, naming them off with ease. He accepts their parting gift, a simple basket of his favorite baked goods, hand-weaved and dyed in the colors of his kingdom. Oikawa holds it reverentially in his arms.

Iwaizumi, again, declines to speak. Voice lost in the myriad of emotions swirling in his stomach. It becomes apparent he does not need words to make his feelings apparent, as he spends the early evening being consoled by servants from every department within the castle.

“We’re all going to miss him.”

“You two were always so close.”

“I’m sure he’ll visit often.”

“Maybe you’ll be assigned to the Shiratorizawa border.”

Iwaizumi is surprised by their genuine kindness, unsure how to take it all. Does he look that miserable? That torn up inside that it bleeds through his pores, painting him a portrait of overwhelming sadness?

It as he is helping clean up one of the dining rooms that Yahaba interrupts him. By then most of the nobles had departed, the festivities having come to an end.

“Iwaizumi,” Yahaba mumbles into his ear, “Prince Tooru wishes you to join him in Lord Takahiro’s guest quarters.”

Iwaizumi nods, handing Yahaba the tray of dirty plates in his hand and moving to climb the ornate stairs. He slips into the guest hallway, making his way to the corner room. Lord Takahiro always requested it, because of its large overlooking windows.

Iwaizumi knocks on the door. Matsukawa opens it, now towering over him. That seems to be a common--and unfortunate--thread in his life. He smiles down, letting him into the simple guest quarters. The chairs have been pushed away, leaving Oikawa and Lord Takahiro to sit sloppily on the rug.

Oikawa practically purrs as he enters, making Iwaizumi bristle uncomfortably. But then he notices the wine glasses in their hands, and the empty bottles beside them and he lets out a sigh.

“Was I summoned to collect the Prince?” Iwaizumi asks, glancing over at Matsukawa. The servant chuckles, taking the moment to check on his caged falcon, under its blanket.

Oikawa lets out a whine, “Iwa-chaaaan, don’t be so grumpy! Come sit with us!”

“Yeah, Iwaiiiiizumi,” Lord Takahiro echoes, “Have some wine! It’s been aaages.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but takes a seat beside Oikawa, and accepts the offered glass. He rarely gets the chance to imbibe, though he pours the drink out often. The taste shocks him slightly, but he keeps it down, enjoying the pleasant burn in his throat.

“Iwa-chaaaaan’s back everyone! Isn’t that amazing!” Oikawa shouts with unimpeded glee.

Lord Takahiro laughs, “Thank God for that. I couldn’t stand hearing you moaning about it a second longer.”

“You talked about me?” Iwaizumi asks, blinking.

Oikawa sticks his tongue out.

Matsukawa takes a seat beside Lord Takahiro, taking a sip from the noble’s wine, “I don’t think there has ever been a conversation with Prince Tooru that did not mention you at least once by name.”

Iwaizumi feels his heart beat faster, his grip on his wine glass more tenuous, as heat rises up to his face, “Really?”

Oikawa huffs, face red from alcohol and embarrassment, “Don’t play innocent Iwa-chan!” he practically growls out, “I know for a fact you were thinkin’ and talkin’ about me too.”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow, “Uh huh?”

Oikawa squints at him, leaning forward, “I’m not dumb, Iwa-chan. I know whats going on in every corner of my castle.”

“And you made your attendant check on him constantly,” Lord Takahiro adds with a laugh.

“Are you serious?” Iwaizumi joins in with his own chuckle, “Kyoutani always claimed Yahaba was spying on me.”

Oikawa purses his lips, “This conversation, this conversation is stupid. Change it.”

“Yes, of course, _Your Highness_.” Iwaizumi sneers playfully.

Oikawa’s eyes seem brighter, grin breaking free on his face, “Good job, _minion_.”

And the pair break into a long need laughing spell, clutching at each other and at a shared memories of better times. Warmer times. Closer times.

As the laughter dies down, Matsukawa cuts in, “Remember that time, I think we were like twelve, but remember when we filled Prince Wakatoshi’s napkin with blue paint and he opened it onto his lap and got it all over his pants?”

“His face didn’t change but his eyes looked crazed for like a second. It was so worth it.” Lord Takahiro agrees.

Iwaizumi thinks of the memory fondly, but the mention of Ushijima leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, so he speaks up, “Remember that time Oikawa didn’t get to have the first slice of cake and he threw an absolute fit.”

“First of all, I was eleven, second of all it was my birthday, and third of all Tobio wasn’t even invited so why was he there.”

“He’s your brother and you love him.” Iwaizumi comments back, bopping the Prince’s nose. Oikawa swats him away.

“Whatever, he’s dumb,” Oikawa grumbles, swallowing the rest of his wine, “Let’s talk about not dumb things.”

“So not you?” Iwaizumi asks.

Oikawa swats him again, this time aiming at his shoulder, as Lord Takahiro and his attendant snicker into their hands.

“Iwa-chan, you’re so mean to me! Is this how you want me to remember you?” Oikawa snaps.

Iwaizumi tries not to think about it, forcing on a grin and another snide remark, “I need more wine so I can forget you completely.”

The foursome spend the night sharing stories and laughs, enjoying their company and the easy going feeling of a youth soon finished. Lord Takahiro will start assuming more responsibilities as the head of house. Matsukawa will follow him. Iwaizumi would soon be sent off to a border, and Oikawa would be crowned a Prince of Shiratorizawa in less than a week.

Eventually Iwaizumi rises from the ground, a bit tipsy but mostly solid. He hauls Oikawa up, letting the Prince lean heavily against him. He sends his goodbyes to their two guests before leading the Prince out of the guest quarters to his own chambers.

When he gets to the room and closes the door, he turns to Oikawa. As easy as ever, he moves to start unbuttoning his shirt, motions routine and familiar. But Oikawa stops him by placing a hand over his, and instead drags him into his bed.

He’s clumsy with drink, and the pair end up half on top of each other, tangled in each other’s limbs. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, trying to pull away, but Oikawa wraps his arms around him, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

“Oikawa, you can’t sleep in your clothes,” Iwaizumi mumbles.

Oikawa presses harder against Iwaizumi, fingers digging into his back, and it takes Iwaizumi a moment to realize the dampness on his shirt and the shaking in Oikawa’s shoulders. He’s crying.

Iwaizumi hugs back, almost immediately at the realization. Worry clawing at his throat with its visceral grip.

“Don’t leave me,” Oikawa murmurs, voice low and shaky.

Iwaizumi tightens his grip, “I won’t.”

Oikawa shudders, “You know, they’re not even coming. None of them are.”

“What do you mean?”

“Father’s making Tobio start his debut early, so he’s leaving this week. Father will make up some sort of excuse for his absence. And Mom...Mom is gone. No one’s coming. I’m getting married in a stranger’s castle and no one’s coming.”

Iwaizumi holds him tighter.

Oikawa won’t stop shaking, “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go. This is my home! Not there!”

Iwaizumi feels his heart clench, “I’ll go with you. Make it happen. Just order me to go, and I’ll go. They can’t stop you if you do. Just send me with you. I’ll go with you.”

“And what? Just so father can harm you in his effort to ruin me?”

“Oikawa.”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa speaks up, and his tone is desperate, insistent, as he lifts his tear stained face up to look into green eyes, “I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do. And there’s only one thing I do know. And it’s that I love you, Iwaizumi Hajime. I love you so much, and I _know_ you love me too, so don’t even try to deny it because you are a terrible liar and I see it in your face. I’ve seen it all these years and that’s why I could never understand your distance. And I don’t understand why you haven’t kiss me yet. Why won’t you kiss me? Please just kiss me, Iwaizumi. I can’t bear the thought of Ushiwaka having my first kiss, so please, please, kiss me. Kiss me, kiss me, kis-“

And Iwaizumi kisses him, pressing his lips firmly against Oikawa’s, pulling him closer. Needing him closer. Oikawa wraps his arms around him immediately, fingers clawing at his clothed back, legs curling around him until every inch of him is pressed against the knight.

Iwaizumi pulls his face back for breath, but Oikawa does not let him leave him for long, dragging back in. Oikawa peppers his face with kisses, sloppy with drink but lovely all the same. Iwaizumi is still trying to catch his breath, arms trembling as Oikawa starts working his way down his neck, mouthing the skin there, wet and insistent.

“Oikawa, I-“

“Please,” Oikawa whispers, his breath tingling Iwaizumi’s saliva-slick neck, making him shudder, “Let me do this, I want him to know, I want the _world_ to know, that no matter what, I, I-“

Iwaizumi finds his fingers digging into Oikawa’s hair, expertly dodging his spiraling horns and pressing him closer to his neck. Oikawa lets out another puff of breath and then he latches on, lapping at Iwaizumi’s jugular, mouthing him and sucking. Iwaizumi can feel the scrape of sharp teeth on his skin, and he feels his heart tense with fear.

Oikawa’s fingers knead at his shoulders, “Trust me. Do you trust me?”

Iwaizumi relaxes, almost immediately, and he wonders if he maybe he has an off button too, that only Oikawa can press.

Oikawa bites him and Iwaizumi groans. Oikawa laps at the blood bleeding out, kissing at the mark. He whispers into it, words that Iwaizumi can’t comprehend even if his mind wasn’t suddenly so hazy. He feels his head slump onto Oikawa’s shoulder, breathing deeply as Oikawa massages his back, whispering into his ear and nuzzling into his neck.

“I do,” Iwaizumi whispers, feeling calmer then he’s ever felt. No worry clinging to his shoulders, no fear of death or consequence hovering over his figure, just peace and quiet and warmth, “I love you so much.”

“I know,” Oikawa murmurs back, his fingers combing through Iwaizumi’s hair, pulling his face into his chest.

“So tell them, tell them I’m coming with you. Order me to go with you. Tell the world,” Iwaizumi continues, words muffled.

Oikawa keeps petting his head, “Iwa-chan, you’ll always come back to me won’t you?”

“Even if it takes me years,” Iwaizumi replies, with more confidence than he’s ever felt before.

“No matter what?”

“No matter what.”

Oikawa’s smile is pained as he speaks, “You’re too good to me. Don’t you know I’m a monster?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “You’re not a monster. You’re the First Prince of Aoba Johsai.”

Oikawa clutches at him, and the pair end up falling asleep tangled in each other’s arms. Iwaizumi had forgotten how comfortable the Prince’s bed was, and how wonderful it was to have his warmth pressed against him.

In the morning, they separate. Iwaizumi returns to the barracks. Oikawa returns to Yahaba to prepare for his departure. And by that evening, the First Prince of Aoba Johsai has left the castle for Shiratorizawa. Iwaizumi spends the next few days waiting. Waiting for word of his re-assignment to Oikawa’s person, of his relocation to Shiratorizawa.

It takes a week for a message to come to the castle.

It is a simple note, but the words echo the halls as they spread from the royals to the nobles to the servants down below.

Prince Tooru is dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! i was helping teach at wizard school all this past week so i didnt really have time tor write. 
> 
> but i'm back!
> 
> woo!!
> 
> your comments really make my day and warm my heart. thank you everyone for your kind words! I hope this chapter does not disappoint
> 
> until next time


	4. Part IV - Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is something in Ushijima’s superior attitude, in the way his eyes bore down into Iwaizumi that makes him feel inferior. That in the grand scheme of things, it is Ushijima who will be remembered, and Iwaizumi who will be forgotten. That there is no question who wins this battle. That Iwaizumi had lost the moment he was born, two months before Ushijima, but leagues beneath him.

Prince Tooru is dead.

When the news first hits Iwaizumi he does not react. He is stock still in disbelief at the weeping maid in front of him, a woman who had searched him out immediately to relay the devastation. He stares at her, mind broken for a moment.

And then the world speeds up as he returns to reality and he is shaking his head. Because it’s not true. It can’t be true. She takes his hands in her own, comforting and sorry, tears pouring from her eyes. But his hands are numb in her grip and he can’t stop shaking his head.

Because she’s wrong.

Because it isn’t true.

Because Iwaizumi would know. He would know if Oikawa was dead. Would feel it in his bones, would feel it in the corners of his heart and the depths of his soul. It would be an all encompassing anguish that he would feel in his very core.

But he feels none of this.

He feels nothing at all.

So it can not be true. It is a lie. A terrible, terrible lie. And Iwaizumi isn’t sure who created it, if it be Shiratorizawa, the King or Oikawa himself. But he knows it is a lie, and he finds comfort in that.

“Who told you?” he hisses, voice gravelly as he leans closer to the woman.

She takes in a few shuddering breaths, “The King,” she murmurs, “He called us into the hall and he read aloud the message the chariot brought back.”

Iwaizumi’s fingers tense up in her hands and she lets out another sob. She pulls her hands back from him, using them to shield her face as she falls to her knees in absolute sorrow, “Oh Iwaizumi, please, please tell me it isn’t true.”

Iwaizumi crouches down, hands on her shoulders, “It’s not true.”

She shakes her own head then, sobs muffled by her hands but still loud enough to tear at Iwaizumi, “His voice did not even waver when he read it,” she hitches, voice low so that no one else can hear her but Iwaizumi’s straining ear, “His voice felt so cold, Iwaizumi. In the light, God, in the light it looked like he was _smiling_.”

The maid looks up at him, eyes red and puffy, but brow pulled into an expression of such utter disgust in the wake of devastation, “How can anyone smile at the death of their son?”

Iwaizumi squeezes her shoulders.

Nothing stops Iwaizumi from bursting into the Great Hall after he helps the maid up onto her feet. He leaves the barrack’s sparring grounds, rushing into the castle, pushing through grieving servants crumpling to the floor around him. No one stops him. If anything they turn away in their grief at the sight of him, unable to look at a reminder of what they all once had.

He finds the King in the Great Hall, ordering morose guards to get back to work. Prince Tobio sits on the steps beside his father, face in his hands, inconsolable. He’s not crying, but his eyes are vacant as they stare at the ground. As if there is nothing left for him to give.There are sobs echoing throughout the hall from maids weeping on the ground, butlers crouched in grief, servants shaking their heads in utter disbelief, all of them sent into another spiral of grief much too soon.

It is chaos.

And in this chaos, Iwaizumi stomps his way right up to the royal family unimpeded. There are no tears in his eyes, there is no falter in his step, there is only fury, painting his eyes red.

“Where _is_ he?” he seethes, staring straight into the King’s eyes, hands balled into fists at his sides. He stands up straight, hands trembling only with anger, and the desire to harm.

The King does not seem surprised by his words nor his presence. He keeps his gaze even, barking in turn, “He’s dead, Iwaizumi. Taken by bandits coordinated by a traitor. Shiratorizawa will pay dearly for this oversight, do not worry.” And the King _smiles_.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, mouth parted in disbelief at the absurdity of the King, “You’re lying!” he shouts, fingers desperate to wrap around the King’s neck, “Where is he! What have you done with him?”

“Iwaizumi,” Prince Tobio croaks, and Iwaizumi can’t bear to look at him in this moment. Prince Tobio has never been one to wear grief well, even in the light of all his recent practice. But Iwaizumi is in no mood to comfort. He only wishes to destroy. He turns away, rage coursing through his veins and he needs to leave. Needs to leave before he does something he can not take back.

Kyoutani bursts into the room, providing him the perfect distraction. “Where the _fuck_ is he?” the angry knight screams.

His presence is not met as benignly as Iwaizumi’s intrusion. Kyoutani has never been a familiar sight within the castle walls, has never built any kind of rapport with any of the servants. All he is known for is the destruction that tends to follow in his wake. It is no surprise that the guards immediately swarm him to keep him at bay.

Iwaizumi grits his teeth, stepping into the fray and grabbing the young knight. He turns to the guards, “I will deal with him. Let him go.” There is hesitance painted on their faces, but it blends with the sorrow etched across their features. Iwaizumi softens his voice as best he can, “We’re all going through a lot right now.”

The guards pull back, eyes somber and tear stained, leaving Kyoutani for Iwaizumi to take care of. Iwaizumi hauls the screaming teen out, back into the courtyard, shoving him up against the wall, “Look, I’m just as upset as you are about Prince Too--“

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about that shithead!” Kyoutani snaps, pulling free of Iwaizumi’s hold.

Iwaizumi punches him. It is an immediate response. A rage filled response. Uncalled for, honestly, and something Iwaizumi should apologize for when his gaze is not so clouded by red. But it does shut the teen up, leaving him winded and clutching at his cheek, eyes wide. Iwaizumi’s voice drips venom when he speaks, no remorse present in his tone, “Don’t you ever, _ever,_ say that about our Prince again, do you hear me Kyoutani?”

Kyoutani growls under his breath, turning his face away. “Whatever,” he manages to say. He wipes some blood away from his nose with the back of his hand, smearing it up his arm.

“Kyoutani,” Iwaizumi warns, fingers clenching into fists once more at his sides.

“There’s more important shit to worry about!” Kyoutani insists, eyes desperate once they return to searching Iwaizumi’s face, “They’ve locked him up somewhere! They’re saying he did it, Iwaizumi. That he _killed_ him. Do you know what that means?”

Iwaizumi squints at him, uncomprehendingly, “What? Who? What are you talking about?”

Kyoutani lets out an annoyed huff, “Get your head out of the Prince’s ass. They’ve locked up Yahaba! They’re saying he did it, because he was with the Prince when it happened.”

“What?”

“Yeah, and that’s bullshit and we both know it. Yahaba’s an infuriating asshat, but he’s not a murderer. And he loved the Prince more than anyone,” Kyoutani pauses, giving Iwaizumi a sneer, “Well, almost more than anyone.”

Iwaizumi looks away, kicking at the castle wall to expend his pent up adrenaline, “He’s not dead,” he mutters, placing a fist on the wall and restraining himself from punching, “I would know if he was dead. He’s not. He’s out there. Somewhere. Probably being an idiot.”

Kyoutani glares at him, “Well if that’s true than the idiot’s just signed Yahaba off to his own death so _fuck_ him.”

Iwaizumi sighs, running his fingers anxiously through his hair, “I’ll find him. I have to find him. And then, then it will all get sorted out.”

“Are you not fucking listening to me?” Kyoutani shouts, “Yahaba’s been charged with the murder of the first Prince! He’s going to be _executed!_ ” He grabs Iwaizumi’s shoulders roughly, forcing him to look at him, “We have to do something!”

Iwaizumi is the one to growl this time, pulling free to look away again, “I don’t know what to do! Alright? What do you want me to say? You think I’ve got all the answers? I have nothing, Kyoutani! I have never had anything my entire life!”

Kyoutani is unconvinced, eyes narrow in disgust, “You know this castle inside and out. You have to know where they’re keeping him,” he insists, “I’m getting him out, Iwaizumi. I dont give a shit if you help me. But I’m getting him out and you’re not stopping me.”

Iwaizumi leans against the wall, head looking up at the sky, taking in the sight of birds flying in the air. Circling around him. Predatory. Observant. He groans again, hands pushing at his eyes. This has all been too much in so little time. His mind is a mess of emotion and racing thoughts. He doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know what to do.

A bird’s cry pierces through the air, swooping low above them.

A falcon.

An idea suddenly lights up within his mind and he turns to Kyoutani, “We need, we need to stay calm. I think know who can help us. Help us come up with some sort of plan.”

* * *

“And you’re positive? You’re sure?” Lord Takahiro insists, eyes still red from the the news.

Iwaizumi nods. He had grown surer with each passing day after hearing the first news. It was fact in his head, “He’s not dead.”

“But they said there was blood all over wagon,” Matsukawa comments, fingers tugging at his hair, “They even found a dagger soaked in it!”

“Yeah, and Yahaba slept right through that amount of bloodshed?” Kyoutani huffs, fingers digging into his crossed arms, “Calling bullshit.”

“Kyoutani,” Iwaizumi hisses, a warning to be more polite. They were still dealing with nobility, no matter how familiar he had become with them.

“I heard...Yahaba was the one...who,” Lord Takahiro starts.

“Yahaba didn’t do it!” Kyoutani growls, “In fact, he probably knows what happened and that’s why the King locked him up! Why are we just sitting around doing nothing? They’re going to kill him!”

“Kyoutani, we need to stay calm.”

“Get the fuck off your high horse, Iwaizumi,” Kyoutani snaps, “You’ve shattered three vases today. Don’t tell me to be calm when you can’t even get your legs to stop shaking.”

“Are all knights so foul mouthed?” Lord Takahiro comments.

Kyoutani whirls to face him, “Don’t even get me started on your bullshit, Fancypants.”

“Kyoutani!” Iwaizumi shouts, slapping him hard on the shoulder, “Sit down and be quiet!”

“You want me to put a blanket over him? That’s what works with my birds,” Matsukawa offers, trying to inject some semblance of humor into this terrible conversation. Kyoutani does not appreciate it, but he sits down all the same, scowling at the three but keeping his mouth shut.

Iwaizumi relaxes his shoulders for a moment, turning back to the noble, “He’s not dead. He’s probably run off somewhere. I don’t think he’s really thought this through enough. I need to go find him.”

“If that’s true, he could be anywhere! It’s been days,” Hanamaki says, frown tugging at his lips.

“I know. But I can’t just sit here,” Iwaizumi replies.

“What’s your plan?” Matsukawa asks.

“Scour every corner of the continent until I can find that idiot and give him some choice words about making us so worried,” Iwaizumi huffs, and then he reddens, adding, “Sorry, I shouldn’t call the Prince an idiot in front of you.”

“You’re allowed to call him whatever you want, Iwaizumi.” Matsukawa replies, “Nice bandage on your neck by the way. Real subtle.”

Iwaizumi flames up, hand coming up to cover the sore spot on his neck. He’d covered it up immediately with some gauze, making up some excuse about a spar gone wrong. Was it really that obvious?

“Anyway,” he coughs, returning to the subject at hand, “Kyoutani is right. Yahaba probably knows more than any of us about what happened. We need to get him out of here. He’s a good kid.”

Matsukawa licks his lips nervously, “He’s been charged with the murder of a royal. That’s high treason. You don’t just walk away from that.”

Iwaizumi’s face is stern, “I’ll break him out and take him with me when I go. The King’s already probably searching for an excuse to lock _me_ up to.”

“He’s been acting so strange since the Queen passed,” Lord Takahiro agrees, “Won’t talk to anyone. Doesn’t trust anyone anymore. Everyone was shocked when he didn’t postpone the wedding at all. I heard Prince Wakatoshi was offering to wait a whole ‘nother year.”

“Not to mention this morning. He’s off his rocker.” Matsukawa agrees.

“What happened this morning?” Iwaizumi asks. He’d been steering clear of the castle the past few days, trying to lie low as he prepared for his journey, borrowing supplies from sympathetic servants, taking food here and there.

“He sent Prince Tobio off, right on schedule.” Lord Takahiro explains, “Kid looked miserable. More so than usual.”

“He’s not even fourteen yet?” Iwaizumi murmurs, furrowing his brow.

“Not to mention he just lost his mom _and_ his brother weeks apart from each other. Sure the Prince can be a brat, but this is just cruel beyond words.”

“It makes no sense,” Lord Takahiro continues, “He’s putting so much pressure on Prince Tobio to ascend, it’s absolutely ruining him. And all this when he’s one of the few Kings blessed with _two_ sons. Why was he always so quick to throw Prince Tooru away?”

Iwaizumi swallows.

“Have you guys not figure it out yet?” Kyoutani huffs, unable to keep to himself quiet for long, “Isn’t it obvious?”

Iwaizumi flashes him a surprised look, fear seizing him suddenly. Does Kyoutani know? How could he know? Had Oikawa slipped up at some point? Had he seen?

“Prince Tooru’s clearly not his kid. They look nothing alike.” Kyoutani continues, “He’s just a copy of his mom. Of course the King would hate him and want him out. No one likes a bastard.”

“Huh,” Matuskawa mulls the idea over, “I never really thought of it that way. But it makes sense.”

“Did you know Iwaizumi?” Lord Takahiro asks.

“This is nonsense,” Iwaizumi replies, trying to calm down his racing heartbeat with the knowledge Oikawa’s secret is still safe, “I’m not here to gossip. I’m here to make a plan. I need your help.”

Lord Takahiro nods, “What do you need us to do?”

* * *

Iwaizumi had only visited the castle dungeons once before. Deep within the palace undergrounds, it seemed like the perfect place to find a hiding Oikawa during an intense game of hide and go seek. He had thought himself brilliant for coming to the conclusion, racing down the steps and diving past the guard with a joyful grin.

Only to be scooped up and scolded furiously, barred entry and given some lashings for the disrespect.

He never even entertained the thought of sneaking in again.

(Oikawa had been hiding in a cabinet in the pantry room.)

But he does remember where the dungeons are, and he knows approximately where the cells would be found. And years of helping Oikawa study every inch of the castle allows him to know one more important thing: all cells have a grated opening to the surface, to allow a sliver of light and some rainwater to slip through.

Iwaizumi is certain these grates are found by the north east side of the castle, the side normally ignored when guiding visiting nobles through the grounds. The grass there is attended to once a week rather than every other day. There are few flowers grown, and just as Iwaizumi suspected, there are slits in the ground right by the castle walls.

The slits are about an inch wide and five inches long, with small metal rods spaced an inch apart within them. The slightly unkept grass shields them well from obvious sight but they spot them easily when they try. 

“He’s down there?” Kyoutani asks, beside Iwaizumi, crouching low to the ground to eye one of the grates.

“He’s in one of them, at least.”

“Yahaba!” Kyoutani hisses, crawling to each grate. There are groans from a few, curses from more and the occasional grubby fingers clawing out into the fresh air. Iwaizumi feels his stomach churn, tries to remind himself most of these people are actual criminals to assuage his growing guilt. Stay focused on the task at hand.

Finally, at the end of the row, they see a pale shaky finger poke through the grate. This grate is noticeable smaller than the others, barely leaving enough room to fit two lean fingers through.

“Yahaba?” Kyoutani repeats, leaning close to the grate in question.

“KyouKen?” A hoarse voice responds, finger twitching at the air.

Kyoutani drops down to his knees, digging at the dirt around the grate with his hands. Iwaizumi grits his teeth, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him, “There’s no point, see. It’s all stone under here.”

“Iwaizumi?” Yahaba’s voice is scratched at the edges, as if his throat is so dry the words tear his skin up as he speaks them.

“Are you alright?” Iwaizumi asks, slipping down onto his knees to hear the quiet responses.

“Could be better,” Yahaba whispers back, attempting at a laugh that only ends with him coughing. He pulls his hand back, most likely to cover his mouth.

“This is stupid,” Kyoutani growls, pulling at the grate, “How are we getting him out?”

“We just needed to see which cell he was in. Remember the plan.”

“You’re getting me out?” Yahaba murmurs, fingers slipping back into the fresh air, back into sight.

“We’re going to try,” Iwaizumi promises.

“You shouldn’t,” Yahaba insists, voice raising slightly, despite how pained it sounds, “You’ll be charged with treason too. And, and, oh God, Iwaizumi it was awful. I think, I think--please don’t call me silly, just please believe me, I think I’ve been cursed.”

“Are they giving you water?” Kyoutani asks.

“I’m not crazy,” Yahaba snaps, “You weren’t there. You didn’t _see_.”

Iwaizumi feels his heart accelerating, feels the hickey at his neck burn under its bandage. Because he knows what Yahaba probably saw, probably felt. He has a good guess, at least.

“We’re getting you out.” Kyoutani retorts instead, “We can talk later.”

“How?” Yahaba wonders, “They’ve got me in my own section, in the deepest part of the dungeon.”

“Trust us,” Iwaizumi replies instead, “We have a plan. Just stay alert and keep quiet, and do as we say when the time comes. Got that?”

Yahaba doesn’t reply. Kyoutani pokes at one of his fingers, and Yahaba’s darts out, wrapping his index around the other’s fingers in a desperate need to touch another person. Iwaizumi pulls at the grass around him.

“Kyoutani let’s go, we need to prepare for tonight.”

Yahaba lets go with hesitation, fingers disappearing back within the cell and out of sight. Kyoutani stands up, taking a moment to kick at the castle wall until his toes are sore within his boots. Iwaizumi lets him have this, and once Kyoutani places both feet back on the ground, they head back into the castle.

Kyoutani works quietly, for once, following Iwaizumi’s careful instructions: pick up the last bit of of rations Akane left out, pack up the spare travel bags Lord Takahiro lent them, make sure to fill the canteens with water and hide everything in Pumpkin’s stall at the stables.

Iwaizumi sharpens his knife and the dagger Matsukawa gave him from the Hanamaki family collection. He sheathes both and pockets them. He spends his day in the basement, helping servants sort the grains and keeping an eye on the guard by the dungeon entrance. Unfortunately, it’s one of the few people in the castle he isn’t friends with. He supposes the man must not leave this area much.

As the afternoon fades into evening, servants start to disappear from the space for the comfort of their beds. Iwaizumi offers to finish up, receiving gracious thank you’s from his fellow workers. He smiles and nods at them. It’s around this point that Kyoutani joins him in his task, discreetly sorting grains into their own ration pouches.

The guard pays them no mind, Iwaizumi long becoming a fixture of the area since beginning his work near the start of the day. The pair keep their work slow paced, dragging on, waiting and waiting and waiting.

Until, finally, a voice from above interrupts them, “Is there a guard down there!?”

Iwaizumi, Kyoutani and the guard look at each other with surprise at the call, gazes meeting before flying to look towards the stairs. Lord Takahiro rushes down, looking about the room, “I need a guard!”

“What’s the matter, sir?” The guard steps forward nervously, bowing graciously at the sight of the visiting Lord. Iwaizumi and Kyoutani quickly do the same.

“I need help outside, one of our falcons has gotten loose and my attendant needs assistance out there.”

“I can not leave my post, sir.” The guard responds awkwardly.

Lord Takahiro bristles, “I didn’t realize guarding grains was more important than my prize winning falcons, who’s shows, might I remind you, are the royal family’s _favorite_ past times.”

“Sir, I--“

“You’re wasting my time and the King’s money! I can’t believe this!” Lord Takahiro snaps as he raises his voice, stomping his foot for good measure. The guard swallows, glancing at Iwaizumi for aid. Iwaizumi wonders if the guard maybe knows him better than he thought. Iwaizumi gives him a slow nod, and the guard looks a bit more relaxed.

“Okay, sir, please lead the way,” the guard mutters, and Lord Takahiro rushes up the steps with the man at his heels.

Iwaizumi and Kyoutani pad to the dungeon door quickly once the pair are out of sight. The door is locked, as expected, but Kyoutani is quick to kick the door knob clean off. Iwaizumi catches it before it can clang to the floor, setting it aside. They open the door.

It’s pitch black inside the hallway, a few torches illuminating the forms of sleeping prisoners huddled in small cells. Iwaizumi isn’t sure if there’s another guard inside here but he wouldn’t be surprised. He slips his dagger out, holding it ready.

Kyoutani picks up one of the torches from their stands, carrying it with him. Iwaizumi starts counting cells, stepping careful down the damp hall. Each cell is mostly uniform, thick metal bars caging whatever prisoner inside. Once they reach the end of the hallway they find a thick steel door with a small little slit.

Kyoutani crouches down, bringing the fire with him as he tries to peer into the slit. Eyes meet his in the dark, almost making him jump, “Yahaba?”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Yahaba whispers in turn, fingers darting out of the opening.

“We need to hurry,” Iwaizumi reminds, pushing Kyoutani out of the way to look at the locking mechanism on the door. He frowns, biting his lip as he tries to slip his knife into it, twisting and turning, trying to listen to the tumbles within for some sort of tell tale click.

“There’s a key,” Yahaba murmurs, interrupting his work, “I’ve seen it, they like to hold it out to me when they slip me my rations,” he explains, “Check the walls, I think their might be a loose stone or something? I don’t know, sometimes I hear stone scraping against stone.”

“What’s going on?” Another prisoner shouts from nearby, “Is someone down there?”

Yahaba pulls his fingers back into his cell. Iwaizumi motions for Kyoutani to search the area while he keeps fiddling with the lock.

“Who’s over there? You got any food on ya?” Comes the prisoner’s voice again, growing louder and more persistent. Iwaizumi keeps his head down, working with very little light. Kyoutani has placed the torch in one of the empty stands above, feeling around the walls, clawing at any piece of loose stone, pushing away any bits of straw. He drops to his knees, crawling around the floor, keeping his face close to the ground.

And then he feels it, a stone piece shifts underneath the weight of his hand. He reels back, taking both hands to pry the stone free of the ground. It’s hollow, and inside he sees a thick metal key. He almost barks out a triumphant sound, but shushes himself, handing it over to Iwaizumi quickly.

Iwaizumi slips the key into the lock with ease, opening it up and watching the door creak open noisily. He opens it further, enough for Yahaba to slip in and out. Kyoutani takes back the torch. Yahaba scrambles forward, squinting in the light, holding out his trembling hands to shield himself.

The light isn’t enough to see well, but Iwaizumi can infer that the cell itself is tiny compared to the barred ones that line the hall. Its ceiling too low to stand in, and if you kneeled in the center and spread your arms out, your finger tips would graze the walls. He looks away.

Kyoutani grabs Yahaba, “Can you walk?”

Yahaba leans against him, “I don’t know.”

“Fuck,” Kyoutani hisses, pulling him closer.

“Here, give him to me, I can carry him if we have to,” Iwaizumi whispers, manhandling Yahaba onto his back. Yahaba wraps his thin arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, fingers clutching at him weakly. Iwaizumi hoists him up effortlessly, his gut sinking at how light the taller man was.

How long had Yahaba been here?

This isn’t the time to think about it. Kyoutani takes the lead, scrambling back up the hallway and up the stairs to the basement. There’s no time to close the door behind them. They rush up the steps and into the servant’s hallway, dark now that they’ve all mostly turned in for the night.

They turn the corner, and a maid freezes in front of them, mid yawn, in just her night slip. The trio hold their breath, staring at the frightened woman. She stares right back at them, scream catching in her throat. Her eyes fall on Iwaizumi, gaze flicking up to Yahaba’s before climbing back down to Iwaizumi. She blinks.

“Please, Koto,” Iwaizumi whispers.

Koto’s hands clench into fists up at her chest but she looks down, shuffling away silently back into her room. The trio let out a breath and keep racing down the hall until they reach the servant’s exit and carefully slip outside.

“Get rid of the torch,” Iwaizumi orders, now that they’re bathed by comforting moonlight.

Kyoutani nods, “Meet at the stables.”

Iwaizumi pads through the castle grounds, mindful of the guard’s schedule. He sees a falcon circling the air on the other side of the castle, calming himself a little. The distraction was still on. Hopefully more guards were over there, swept up in whatever farce Lord Takahiro and Matsukawa were fabricating.

He makes it to the stable, depositing Yahaba onto the ground. In the light of the moon the attendant looks worse than he imagined. Ugly purple and yellow bruises color his wrists and ankles. One foot looks twisted in a way Iwaizum is unable to look at for long. His clothes are tattered and caked with god knows what. He smells horrendous, now that Iwaizumi can pay attention to more than just his racing nerves.

Iwaizumi tries to think, fast. Needs a change of plans, “Yahaba, can you stand?”

Yahaba rocks forward onto his knees, using shaky hands to lift himself up from the ground. He favors his good foot as he goes. He grapples at the stall post, using it to straighten himself. Iwaizumi bites his lip. At least Kyoutani had dressed Pumpkin already, loaded and read to go.

“I’m going to lift you up. Swing your legs,” Iwaizumi warns, grabbing Yahaba’s waist and bringing him up into the air. Yahaba grits his teeth as he manages to get onto the horse, gripping her reigns tightly and doing his best to stay up right.

Iwaizumi starts unloading Pumpkin, removing the bags from her saddle. Yahaba stares at him, “What are you doing?”

“Pumpkin’s not gonna ride for long with you, Kyoutani _and_ all of our things on her. I’m moving this stuff onto Lady.”

“Lady? Why Lady?” Yahaba hisses, blinking.

“Good luck charm,” Iwaizumi mutters slipping away to the neighboring stall to dress up the beautiful white mare.

“She’s the most finicky horse we have!” Yahaba snaps in a hushed tone, “This is insane.”

“This whole night is insane,” Iwaizumi counters, grabbing the saddle and reigns.

“There’s still time,” Yahaba murmurs, “You can go back. I can just leave, with Pumpkin, and I won’t say anything about you helping if I get caught. You’ve done more than enough already.”

“You’re greatly misunderstanding our mission, Yahaba,” Iwaizumi mutters, climbing onto Lady and shushing her with a few calming pets, “We’re not just running away. We’re coming back with Prince Tooru in hand.”

Yahaba blinks at him, eyes wide, the whites of them catching in the moonlight, “You don’t understand,” he shudders, “Prince Tooru is _gone_. It took him, Iwaizumi, no one believes me but _it_ took him.”

“A demon?” Iwaizumi huffs, tone unimpressed.

Yahaba looks like he’s seen a ghost, all color draining from his face as he stares at the man in utter disbelief, “H-how? How did you know?”

Iwaizumi shrugs, “A hunch.”

They’re interrupted by a loud piercing scream from the other side of the castle, as light pours from the corner of the grounds. Thick black plumes of smoke billow out into the air as flames grow taller and taller.

“That idiot,” Iwaizumi spits under his breath, straining to look in the dark. He spots Kyoutani, rushing toward them, stopping only a moment to swing onto the horse, right behind Yahaba. Iwaizumi pulls Lady to attention, “What did you just do?”

“Thought the orchards needed some more light,” Kyoutani’s grin is manic, “And I got all the guards to run over there instead of the gate, so save your scolding until later, ok?”

Iwaizumi lets out a huff, but kicks his horse into a gallop. Kyoutani mirrors him on Pumpkin, arms caging Yahaba to take hold of the reigns. The fire blazes behind them, and with the growing chaos Kyoutani loses all desire for secrecy. He turns his head back, letting out a celebratory whoop and shriek, “Kiss my ass you privileged fucks!”

Yahaba manages to elbow him into submission before he can start chanting, “Anarchy! Anarchy!”

Iwaizumi feels a headache brewing at his temple, but he ignores it. He keeps his head forward, his grip on the reigns tight, and weaves down the path. Leaving the Aoba Johsai castle grounds. Leaving the place he’d called home for so many years of his life. Setting his sights for the nearby border.

Never does he feel any sort of need to look back.

* * *

Iwaizumi kneels by the river bank, leaning forward to refill their canteens. The morning light filters through the trees, dappling his skin with a myriad of dark spots. Once they’re full, he cups some water in his hands, splashing it onto his face and rubbing the clear liquid into his tired eyes.

They had spent the past few days riding, keeping to the dense forests and out of sight. But travel was slow when there were no paths for the horses to follow. That, and Yahaba had to regain his strength. He was exhausted, limbs jittery and still weak.

Iwaizumi glances over to his companions, a few paces away from the river bank, by the tree where they had tied their horses nearby to graze. Yahaba sits, back leaning against a solid trunk, eyes squeezed shut in pain. Kyoutani kneels by him, wrapping clean cloth tightly around the splint on Yahaba’s left ankle, securing it with a rough knot. Yahaba lets out a hiss.

Iwaizumi wanders back over to them, offering Yahaba a canteen he greedily takes.

“What the hell did they do to you in that cell?” Kyoutani growls, chewing at his lip once he finishes looking over Yahaba’s multitude of wounds.

“Nothing,” Yahaba murmurs, swallowing down another gulp of water, “Most of this is from before.”

“Before?” Iwaizumi asks, sitting down beside him.

Yahaba nods, sitting up with a new surge of energy, having slept for most of the journey until this much needed break, “After, it all happened. They arrested me immediately, and we still had, you know, three days journey to get back to the castle. And, well, they kept questioning me and I, I had nothing to give them. Well, nothing they would accept.”

Iwaizumi grimaces, “Can you, can you tell me again what happened?”

Yahaba sighs, running fingers through his light colored hair, “It’s, it’s a blur. It was awful. I remember everything was normal, the Prince said goodnight. We were in one of the nicer roomier wagons, and the prince was curling himself up in his bed cot. And then, I think, I went to bed too, on the floor nearby like usual. And then there was like, a scream. I can’t describe it. It was just, a terrible noise that cuts right through you. It woke me up and there was blood everywhere and the Prince was gone, Iwaizumi. Just, gone. And instead there was, there was a monster, and we looked at each other and, I felt this, this pressure. It pushed me back I couldn’t move! And it, it just, it disappeared into the night,” Yahaba takes in a shaky breath, “The monster, it left, it left this dagger in the room. It must have been what it used on the Prince and,” he chokes a little, on his words, “I don’t know if the Prince is alive or just dea-“

“He’s not dead,” Iwaizumi interrupts, turning to face Yahaba completely, “He’s not dead.”

But Yahaba does not look comforted by his words. He looks scared, eyes caught on Iwaizumi’s throat, trembling hand rising, “What, what’s wrong with your neck?”

Iwaizumi covers his hickey self consciously, his fingers touching his bare skin rather than the bandage he’dwrapped it in. His face flames up. The cloth most have fallen off when he’d washed his face. Shouldn’t the mark have faded away by now? And why would an embarrassing bruise send Yahaba into another fit of panic?

The answer to this becomes clearer when the attendant raises his voice, “Iwaizumi! Why do you have a, a pentagram on your neck?”

“What?” Iwaizumi blinks, lifting his hand away and craning his neck to see. Of course it was physically impossible for him to do so.

Kyoutani pushes his way into the conversation, roughly moving Iwaizumi’s face the other way to get a look for himself. “Holy shit,” he exclaims, “ _This_ is what you were hiding? I thought you just didn’t want the world to see your gross hickey.”

Iwaizumi slaps his hand away, standing up to stalk back over to the river, “I don’t know what either of you are talking about,” he snaps. He leans down, peering at the water, but the current keeps his image too distorted to see anything.

Iwaizumi gives up, climbing back up to his companions with a furrowed brow. Yahaba looks at him warily, Kyoutani with confusion.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on either ok. But there’s, there’s just a ton of stuff going on right now. We need to stay focus. What matters now is finding Prince Tooru.”

“Did a demon curse you?” Yahaba asks, “Was a demon following Prince Tooru and that’s why, why it took him? KyouKen stop looking at me like I’m insane! I’m not!”

Lady rears back suddenly, from her spot nearby, letting out a shrill neigh in surprise. The trio whirl around, eyes wide. Kyoutani grabs for the dagger, Iwaizumi covers his neck with his hand and Yahaba tries to hide his splinted leg from view. They’re tense as the horse rears up and down, shaking out it’s neck and neighing.

But she does not seem alarmed. She seems...excited?

“Lady, Lady is that you?”

Iwaizumi stands up like a bolt because he _knows_ that voice. Yahaba stares at him fearfully, back pressing tighter against the tree as if it could help.

“Search the area,” the man orders, petting the horse to calmness once more.

“Shit,” Iwaizumi curses, dropping back down to rip off a strip of cloth to tie aroumd his neck.

‘We have to run for it!” Kyoutani growls.

“It’s too late,” Iwaizumi snaps back, knowing running away at this point would only cause an armed chase, “Just, just follow my lead.” He takes a calming breath before stepping out of his cover, into the man’s direct eye sight “Prince Wakatoshi, it is good to see you.”

Prince Wakatoshi stares at him in surprise, “Iwaizumi?”

“I apologize, I did not realize we had crossed the border alre-“

“We?” Ushijima questions, walking briskly over to him, “Is he with you? Do you know where he is? You must tell me everything.”

Iwaizumi feels his heartbeat calm upon the realization that word of his crime and treason had not spread to the neighboring kingdom. For once he thanks the King’s penchant for paranoia for saving his skin, “He’s not with me,” he murmurs back, “But I assume you had the same idea as me?”

Ushijima’s eyes look disappointed at the news, but his expression remains as blank as ever. Still, his hands are heavy on Iwaizumi’s shoulders, tense.

“We found more intruders, sire!” a knight calls.

“My companions,” Iwaizumi corrects, quickly.

Ushijima nods, eyes darting over to the two teens beeing shoved closer, “Is that, is that Yahaba?” Iwaizumi nods in turn. Ushijima releases him, finally, “I think it best we all talk. Gather your things, we’ll escort you back to the castle.”

“Did we venture that far from the border? My mistake, sire. I am very sorry for the intrusion.”

Ushijima narrows his eyes at him, “Do you think me a fool, Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi feels a cold sweat begin to bead at the back of his neck, but he keeps his eyes level with the Prince’s.

Ushijima looks away to bark out more commands at his knights, and before Iwaizumi has time to check in with either of his friends, the three of them are being flanked by the impressive Shiratorizawa guard. Their lances glint in the sunlight, and for once Kyoutani keeps his mouth shut and head down.

It is evening by the time they are ushered into the castle. Ushijima has the foresight to bring them in unannounced, through a side hallway directly up to the empty guest quarters. They are shoved into a room that Iwaizumi quickly recognizes as Oikawa’s private quarters.

Ushijima stays with them, taking a seat on one of the armchairs. Kyoutani helps Yahaba into the bed to get off his sore ankle. Iwaizumi turns to Ushijima deciding to remain standing. He holds his hands behind his back to hide his nervous fiddling.

He can never quite tell where he stands with Prince Wakatoshi Ushijima. Best to play it as safe as possible. He waits for the Prince to address him, to lead the conversation. He can stand the awkward silence until then, interrupted only by Kyoutani and Yahaba’s quiet murmuring to one another.

After a moment, the Prince begins, “I assume you believe he is alive as well?”

“I know he’s alive,” Iwaizumi replies.

“Because the body was never found?”

“Because I would _know_ if he was dead. I can’t explain it better than that,”

Ushijima frowns, leaning back in his chair, “If he’s out there, he’s no longer in Shiratorizawa. I have scoured every inch of this kingdom, twice, and nothing.” He pauses a moment, taking his time to take in Iwaizumi carefully, “If you know anything, anything at all about Tooru’s whereabouts, you must tell me.”

“He was taken,” Yahaba mutters, from his place in bed. He looks exhausted, face tinged red with fever from the whole ordeal he’s suffered, “Demon, took him. I saw it, Prince Wakatoshi, you must believe me.”

Iwaizumi curses inwardly, but tries not to react to the outburst. Ushijima looks incredibly intrigued by Yahaba’s words, “Demons?” he repeats, eyes flicking over to the stacks and stacks of books Oikawa keeps in his room.

“Prince Wakatoshi,” Iwaizumi starts, stepping to block his line of sight, “What do _you_ know?”

Ushijima squints at him, “I know my fiancé has gone missing and is presumed dead, and that I wish to find him and secure his safety as soon as possible.”

Iwaizumi swallows, “Do you have any idea why Prince Tooru would want to run off?”

“He was taken!” Yahaba calls from the bed, insistent.

The Prince ignores him in favor of narrowing his eyes further at Iwaizumi, “I understand what you are implying, and I am offended by your tone. Might I remind you that I found you trespassing in my kingdom, with weapons and what I can only presume to be stolen goods? I do not like dancing around issues. If you have something to say, say it outright.”

There is something in Ushijima’s superior attitude, in the way his eyes bore down in Iwaizumi that makes him feel inferior. That in the grand scheme of things, it is Ushijima who will be remembered, and Iwaizumi who will be forgotten. That there is no question who wins this battle. That Iwaizumi had lost the moment he was born, two months before Ushijima, but leagues beneath him, found amongst dirt and garbage. And this feeling kindles a flame in Iwaizumi’s chest, a need to fire back, to prove himself, to show that he is more than what is expected of him. That he does matter, that he can win. That he _has_ won.

And it’s a feeling that makes his lips loose and his tone righteous and angry, and it makes him spit out, “Prince Tooru does not love you.”

Ushijima is not affected by the words, not in the way Iwaizumi expects, “Love was never a part of this equation. Love is something commoners are privileged to, not something ever even alluded to in my circles,” Ushijima snaps, “I have known Prince Tooru for my entire life, have been engaged to him for eight years, do you think I ever believed he loved me?”

Iwaizumi looks away.

“I have no interest in playing a game of who knows Oikawa best. We both have the same aim, I do not see why we can not work together and share information,” the Prince’s golden eyes flare a moment, as he adds, “And if you believe the idea of being wed to me is what sent him off, you are terribly mistaken.”

Iwaizumi grits his teeth, “How can you be so oblivious? He was miserable! Of course that’s why he’s gone off!”

“You were never privy to our talks. We had the issue settled . We knew where each other stood. Once Prince Tooru’s father finally passed or abdicated we agreed Tooru could just move back home and help advise his brother during his reign. The marriage would stay only for diplomacy’s sake. It was _his_ idea. Our wedding could not be the reason for his disappearance. Something else must have triggered it.”

“The Queen died,” Kyoutani offers from his perch beside Yahaba’s drowsy form.

Ushijima shakes his head, “When I spoke with him at the funeral a few weeks ago he seemed eager to leave the somber castle and wished for a distraction. Something else must have happened too.”

Iwaizumi feels his heart clench, feels the bruise on his neck pulse painfully. Guilt swirls in his stomach at his own realization, rising up in his throat like bile that he he forces himself to swallow down.

“He was _taken_ ,” Yahaba insists, fighting to keep his eyes open, “I saw it. A monster, blood everywhere. He didn’t just _go_. Why won’t you believe me? Why won’t anyone believe me?”

“I believe in what you saw, Yahaba,” Iwaizumi says carefully, eyeing Ushijima.

Prince Wakatoshi nods, getting up and taking one of the books off of Oikawa’s desk, “I do not doubt demons were involved in this if that is what you saw. But I am sure that Tooru left of his own volition and that he therefore must be alive.”

“This conversation makes no fucking sense,” Kyoutani growls, “How do you know he’s alive if you believe a demon attacked him?”

Iwaizumi says nothing.

“The demon was not attacking him,” Prince Wakatoshi explains, closing the book in his hands, “It was making a pact with him.”

Iwaizumi still says nothing.

* * *

They spend a few days hiding out in the Shiratorizawa castle. Yahaba feels his strength return to him, fed on more than just measly rations, in a warm dry bed. Kyoutani stays on his best behavior, keeping Yahaba company with only a few complaints here and there.

Iwaizumi spends the days with Ushijima, pouring over the books in Oikawa’s collection, mapping out possible areas to investigate. Ushijima lends him a map of Miyagi for these purposes, helping him carve out a route that would keep them unseen.

“Hug the river,” Ushijima advises, following the blue line along the map, “Keep to the forests that border it.We’re close to the Harvest, so most people will be working their farms and preparing for the festivals. There shouldn’t be many people out hunting at all.”

“This path runs through two cities,” Iwaizumi points out, tapping them on the map with a frown.

“They’re small towns. There is no perfect path to Karasuno, this one has the least obstacles for you. I would advise continuing right through the town, avoiding them would add weeks to your journey.”

Iwaizumi frowns, crossing his arms as he studies the map, “Any advice for not coming off as foreigners?”

“My people are hard workers, loyal and kind. You all should be fine,” Ushijima pauses a moment, then adds with a sterner tone, “Do not dare steal from my people. I will take it as a personal affront.”

Iwaizumi raises his hands up, “I’m not really the stealing type.”

“And your lackey?”

“Kyoutani’s a good kid once you get to know him,” Iwaizumi assures.

Ushijima does not look convinced but decides to drop the issue in favor of opening up a thick book onto of the map. He flips the pages to a rough sketch of a forest. He maneuvers the book further down the map scroll, trying to match it to a location.

“This forest, the one that seems to be a concentration of demon activity, I have a few ideas where it could be,” Ushijima starts, “There are two possibilities,” he points with his finger at the forest bordering Karasuno and Nekoma, “It could be this one, which is also the sight of the never ending territory dispute. There is a lot of dark energy here, a lot of unnecessary death. I would not be surprised if it was teeming with demons because of it.

“However, it could also be here,” Ushijima continues, finger dragging past Nekoma, near the edge of Ushijima’s map into the Fukurodani Kingdom, “There is a lot less sources discussing this area, we unfortunately do not have a partnership with their library, but this forest could also be the one spoken of in the accounts. But, it will be a lot more difficult to get to and will take several more weeks.”

Iwaizumi rubs the bandage on his neck, biting his lip as a name is whispered into his ear. A memory, “He’s there,” he murmurs, pointing at the forest in Fukurodani, “He’s definitely there. Or at least heading there.”

“How are you certain?” Ushijima asks.

“Akaashi Keiji,” Iwaizumi responds.

Ushijima waits for further explanation, but receives none. He sighs, cracking his neck and taking up his pen to mark the spot on the map, “Alright well, I can only offer advice through Karasuno, once you enter Nekoma and beyond, I have no expertise to lend.”

“That’s alright,” Iwaizumi murmurs.

“I still believe you should hit up the border forest, just be careful when you do. I would not be surprised if people there are wary of outsiders and easy to anger. Keep a low profile.”

Iwaizumi nods, “Thanks, this is really helpful.”

Ushijima hums in agreement, “How are you hoping to bring him back if you find him?”

“When I find him,” Iwaizumi corrects, rolling up the map tightly in his hand and slipping it under his shirt safely, “I’m not worried about that part. I’ll knock some sense in to him, don’t worry.”

Ushijima purses his lips in thought, “I am afraid this is the most I can do for you. I regret that I am not able to accompany you. But what with growing tensions from Aoba Johsai, I--“

“It’s alright. You’ve done more than enough. Thank you.”

Ushijima nods, closing the thick book, fingers slightly fiddly as he tries to think of the best words to express the complex emotion wishing to come out of him.

“Iwaizumi,” he starts, carefully, eyes resting on Iwaizumi, “bring him back safely.”

“I will.” Iwaizumi says, and when he says it it feels like a promise. Ushijima straightens up his shoulders in turn giving another silent nod, and letting out the breath he had not realized he was holding.

* * *

“Don’t grip it so tightly,” Kyoutani snaps, “Just enough so it doesn’t slip out of your hands.”

“You death grip everything you hold,” Yahaba counters, “It’s confusing.”

Kyoutani growls under his breath, lowering Yahaba’s arm slightly to correct his stance, “Ok, now the thing with daggers is you need to use your speed to get the upper hand. Your blade is small, you need to get close before they realize what’s coming.”

“Right,” Yahaba nods, fingers squeezing the daggers grip experimentally. He lunges forward, taking quick steps, bringing the dagger down in an arc. His sudden movement has the blade thrown out of his grip entirely, embedding into the ground near Iwaizumi.

“Suggestion,” Iwaizumi calls out, plucking the knife from the ground, “We practice with sticks.”

Yahaba reddens a little, “He told me not to hold on to it tight!”

“I didn’t tell you to throw it, dumbass!” Kyoutani barks back, red himself.

“If you guys have so much energy to fight, shouldn’t we be moving on?” Iwaizumi wonders aloud.

The two teens grumble something about the horses being tired, and Iwaizumi chuckles to himself. He returns his gaze back to the unfurled map on the ground, marking off where they had stopped for the day. It had been about two week and a half since they left the Shiratorizawa mansion and they had made decent progress.

They had just passed through the second town, where they had spent the night at a local inn. The people were just as Ushijima described, and as long as they mentioned nothing about politics nor demons, everything was fine. The people were all too busy to worry about three poor travelers passing through.

The villagers raced around, collecting supplies and building stalls for the upcoming festival to celebrate the Goddess of Harvest and her bounty. Iwaizumi, himself, had never heard of the deity and simply nodded and smiled whenever she was mentioned.

With those two obstacles traverse, they would soon be leaving Shiratorizawa to cross into the Karasuno border. In other words, they would be leaving Ushijima’s protection. The Prince had given each of them a signed certificate giving them permission to travel within the kingdom, only to be used if they were questioned or barred entry anywhere necessary. Luckily they hadn’t needed to use it.

There were no such safe guards in Karasuno. Furthermore, Iwaizumi knew very little of Nekoma and even less of Fukurodani. Soon, they would be completely on their own.

He tries not to think of it that way. Focuses on the task at hand. Finding Oikawa and bringing him back.

A sharp pain blossoms on his shoulder and he lets out a shout. He turns his head, hand clutching at his bleeding shoulder. Yahaba and Kyoutani are upon him in seconds shouting apologies and curses, respectively.

“What did I say about using the dagger!” Iwaizumi snaps, now that he’s realized what’s happened. He tries to calm himself, because although painful, he can tell it’s a minor cut. It was more the surprise of it than anything.

And then the world goes black.

He blinks his eyes open, finds himself somewhere he’s never been before. It is dark, inhumanely dark, but for some reason he can see. There are figures all around him, looking at him curiously, grins manic and bright and _fanged_.

Iwaizumi backs away, pressing against a tall tree, it’s bark rough and it’s leaves like needles. He’s not used to trees like this. Just where the hell is he? Where the hell were Yahaba and Kyoutani? He looks around, foreign faces creeping closer, and he feels himself compelling them away, urging them to leave him be, pushing at them without lifting a finger.

And then he’s back, by the river, clutching his bleeding shoulder. Well, actually, he is now knee deep in the river, staring at his disheveled reflection in the rippling water. He blinks, lifting his head up to look back at a wary Yahaba and Kyoutani.

“Did you guys push me into the river?” Iwaizumi asks, perplexed, shoulders slumping.

Yahaba and Kyoutani look at each other in disbelief. “Are you serious?” Kyoutani snaps back.

“What?”

Yahaba creeps closer to him, reaching a hand out to him, “Iwaizumi, are you alright?”

“Of course, well, other than the scratch on my shoulder.”

Yahaba takes his hand, helping back onto dry ground, “You, you freaked out for a moment.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you, you _snarled_ at us, is the best way I can describe it. Kind of like, KyouKen does but more vicious and less silly.”

“Shut up, Yahaba.” Kyoutani snarls.

“That’s weird. I don’t...For a second there, it felt like, I was somewhere else. But, I...Weird, I can’t remember, exactly why?” Iwaizumi lifts his hand to rub at his temple.

Yahaba helps him sit back down, giving him some water to drink, “I think we’re all just tired. We should turn in early.”

Iwaizumi agrees, mind feeling a bit foggy with confusion. But as they all lay down to sleep his thoughts keep him awake. He searches for the images he had seen, searches for some sort of explanation for the weird episode. His neck burns, his shoulder stings, and the world seems much too loud to find any sort of peace in.

Worst of all he can hear his companions whispering to each other well into the night.

“Shouldn’t we have told him?”

“I didn’t want to upset him any further. He looked so confused.”

“Yeah, well, I’m confused too and would like some damn answers,” Kyoutani hisses, “He looked like he was going to kill us.”

“He was muttering to himself: _are you ok? what’s wrong? oh god, you’re fine, you’re fine, don’t worry me like that, you’re fine.”_ Yahaba shudders.

Iwaizumi furrows his brows in his feigned sleep. He turns over, away from the teens and curling up slightly. His movement makes the other boys quiet down. His fingers come to rest at his neck, massaging at the cloth wrapped around his skin. It’s warm under his touch. He bites his lip.

* * *

They had been lucky for most of their journey. Incredibly lucky. But days into passing the Karasuno border, their luck seems to end. They’e not equipped for this. They’re tired, hungry, outnumbered. What lies ahead of them could be a squadron of Karasuno’s best knights, or it could be some measly vagrants. Iwaizumi was not in the mood to gamble.

“Stay down!” Iwaizumi orders, voice rough as he ducks to the ground. There are voices in the distance, shouting and laughing, metal clinking against each other.

“Iwaizumi,” Yahaba hisses, “What about the horses?”

“Leave them,” Iwaizumi hisses.

“We can’t leave them,” Kyoutani argues, “They’ll die.”

“Not to mention all of our supplies,” Yahaba agrees.

Iwaizumi stares at them, “Do you value that more than your own lives?” More shouts surround them and Iwaizumi shoves Kyoutani and Yahaba lower to the ground. He stretches his arm, cutting the horses loose with the sword Ushijima had lent him.

The horses rear up in panic, already nervous from the growing tension in the air. They gallop away, despite Kyoutani’s desperate reach for them. Iwaizumi grabs him by the back of his collar, hauling him up and into the river. Kyoutani stumbles into it, slipping in the mud and grasping at the bank to keep from washing away.

“Iwaizumi, what are you doing!” Yahaba cries, as he too is unceremoniously shoved into the water. He falls onto Kyoutani, who looses his grip. Luckily, Yahaba latches onto the bank and Kyoutani is able to grab at his other arm to keep from being pulled by the current.

“Iwaizumi!”

“Let go!” Iwaizumi shouts, but before he can say any further, or jump in himself, he is surrounded by rough bandits. He draws out his sword, holding it out defensively as they circle him. Fear grips his heart and he takes in a breath. He blinks his eyes closed for a calming moment and braces himself.

He is a knight of Aoba Johsai.

He will not be taken lightly.

The bandits surge at him, their movements untrained and clunky. He dodges them, footwork second nature as he moves around the field, swiping and lunging as necessary. He cuts away a few, realizing his advantage in skill quickly. But what the bandits lack in finesse, they win in numbers. Iwaizumi can not protect all sides of himself at once, and soon they wear away at his defenses. A nick at the back of his leg unbalances him, a swipe at his chest rips open his shirt, a pommel slams into his head, dizzying him.

The ground is slick from the recent rain and his foot slips, sending him crashing down. He scrambles, drawing up his sword. A bandit falls on him, impaling himself with a screech. Iwaizumi rolls away quickly with a start, abandoning the weapon like a fool. Another bandit runs toward him, and he braces himself. But the attack never comes. She falls to the ground instead, limp, a dagger embedded deeply in her back.

Iwaizumi sees Yahaba, mud covered and breathing heavy. The teen glares at him, rushing forward to pry the dagger free again, “Don’t you dare throw us away like that again!” he shouts, “We can hold our own too!”

“Shigeru!” Kyoutani shouts, grabbing his arm to pull him away from another bandit, lunging his sword at the attacker in turn. It slices into the stranger’s leg, bringing her down with a pained wail.

Iwaizumi rushes to his feet, blood pumping in his ears now that its not just himself he needs to protect. He grabs for his sword, using his foot as leverage on the impaled body to draw it free. He holds it up, sees his dirty face reflected in its bloody blade, and shakes his head free of any further thoughts.

Yahaba and Kyoutani fight together, with the former surging forward, nimble healed feet working to swipe at the target with quick superficial distractions before Kyoutani can step in and cut away with his sword.

Iwaizumi slices at another bandit, expertly driving his sword into his chest, watching the man slump against him. And by then it seems the rest of the stragglers have gotten the message, retreating away, dragging their wounded with them.

When there is finally peace again, Iwaizumi lets out a sigh of relief. Fingers dig into his black hair as he tries to calm his adrenaline down. His hair, he realizes, has grown longer during his journey. He drags his hand down to wipe the sweat of his brow, taking a deep breath.

He hears words reverberating in his mind, _are you ok?_

He supposes it’s his mind reminding himself to check for any wounds. Luckily, it seems he came out of the fight mostly unscathed. Perhaps their luck had yet to run out. He turns to his companions to make sure its same for them.

Yahaba is giddy, laughing the adrenaline off as he comes out of his first battle unwounded, “We’re alive!” he shouts in a breathy laugh. Kyoutani has a cut below his eye that beads up with blood, but that seems about it. Yahaba wipes the blood away with his thumb, a giggle still caught on his lips.

Kyoutani grabs his face, crushing their lips together with more force than necessary. Yahaba lets out a squawk, but wraps his arms around the blond for leverage, pulling him closer. The kiss is sloppy, untrained, but with the unrestrained desperation of two boys in need of each other and in a world of their own.

Iwaizumi thinks of Oikawa.

He kicks dirt at the teenagers, bringing them back, “Congratulations, but we need to head out before those vagrants decide to avenge their friends.”

Kyoutani growls at him, ears red, having just remembered Iwaizumi’s presence. Yahaba quickly stands up, face flushed. He nods quickly, silently, as if Kyoutani had swallowed up all his words. His eyes get caught on the blood staining the dirt around him, which in turn leads him to take in the battle field he’d mostly chosen to ignore once the threat had left him. A hand comes up to his mouth in horror at the realization.

 _He had killed someone_.

Nausea builds up behind his hand and the attendant staggers away to the river to empty his stomach. Iwaizumi stops Kyoutani from running after him, holding his forearm, “Let him be,” he says, “It’s gonna take him a moment to accept what’s happened.”

Kyoutani huffs, staying put, “They attacked _us_.”

“They were still people,” Iwaizumi reminds, “Don’t think so little of your enemies. They deserve your respect.”

Kyoutani pulls his arm free, glaring at the ground. Iwaizumi squeezes his shoulder, and he finds a smirk decorating his features as he leans in, “Shigeru, huh?”

“Fuck off, Iwaizumi,” Kyoutani shouts, blush creeping past his ears to overtake his face as he swats the man away angrily. Iwaizumi ruffles his blond hair in turn, dodging the other’s swipes at him.

“Go wash off all that mud. I’ll go check on Yahaba,” Iwaizumi continues, patting him on the shoulder.

He finds Yahaba sitting at the river bank, hands cupping his face as his shoulders tremble. Iwaizumi takes a seat beside him, watching the river flow beneath him, unimpeded, unbothered, calm and sure.

After a beat of silence, the attendant glances over at him. “I’ve never killed anyone before,” Yahaba murmurs, fingers shifting up into his hair to tug at the light colored strands.

Iwaizumi rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, “That’s a good thing.”

“You both, you didn’t even _react_.”

“After a while, you get numb to it. You have to, when you’re out there. I’m not saying _thats_ a good thing, it’s just, well, it’s the way it is.”

Yahaba rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, taking in a shaky breath, “We need to go, don’t we? I’m slowing you down again.”

“You’re not slowing us down.” Iwaizumi assures, “You’re keeping us mindful.”

“You say that, and yet, you were ready to throw us both away.”

Iwaizumi winces, face scrunching up at the accusation. He stands up, brushing dirt off his butt, “I didn’t throw you away. I wasn’t sure how bad it would get. I wanted to make sure you’d be safe,” he offers his hand down, helping pull Yahaba up once he takes it, “I didn’t know you’d improved your aim so fast.”

Yahaba smiles, shaky, “I just needed to get used to the weight of a dagger. Aim was something Prince Tooru drilled in me during archery practice,” he falters, smile fading from his lips at the memory. The name hangs in the air between them and neither decide to comment on it. 

Iwaizumi turns away, “Come on, we really do need to leave. I want to get out of this cursed forest. It’s teeming with more outlaws than I thought.”

Yahaba swallows, nodding, following after him as they rejoin Kyoutani further ahead. Iwaizumi takes the lead, letting Kyoutani fall into step with Yahaba. Yahaba nudges his elbow with his own and Kyoutani returns the favor with slightly more force. The smile cracks on Yahaba’s face once more, much more sincere and Iwaizumi focuses back on the path ahead.

“If only we had our horses,” Kyoutani grumbles.

Iwaizumi decides not to deem the dig with a response. The trio walk in silence, moving away from the river to the outskirts of the forest. Iwaizumi would rather not be ambushed again, he would like to keep an open view. They would slip back in only to sleep. No more interruptions.

“Hurry up, dumbass!”

The trio freeze, and Iwaizumi nudges them back into the darker woods, ducking them all behind a thick tree. Hoofbeats echo onto the path before them, pausing a few paces ahead.

“They came from here, so, so, he _must_ be here,” the angry voice insists, and Iwaizumi shares a startled glance with Yahaba’s wide eyes.

Another voice joins the first, “You know, it’s hard to keep up with you and drag these other horses with me Kageyama! Oi, what’s with the face! You want to go?”

“It’s not just any horse! It’s Lady! Are you an idiot? It means _he’s_ here!”

“Alright, alright, we’ll look I guess. But we need to reach Lord Kei’s castle before nightfall or my dads will be angry.”

Iwaizumi bites his lips, weighs his options, wonders if this is a blessing or a one way ticket back to the Aoba Johsai dungeon. Yahaba nudges him, giving him a nod. Iwaizumi sighs, and steps out of their cover.

The Princes startle in front of him, interrupted mid-argument. Prince Shouyou draws his sword clumsily, hackles rising in surprise. Prince Tobio stares at him, “Iwaizumi?!”

Prince Shouyou lowers his sword, “Huh?”

Prince Tobio slips off his horse, “What are you doing in Karasuno?”

Iwaizumi remembers to bow, for good measure, “It is good to see you again, sire.” He responds, “I did not expect to find you here either.”

Prince Tobio flicks his gaze out to the forest behind him, “Is he, is he with you?”

Iwaizumi swallows, “No.”

Prince Tobio’s face twists further into a scowl that Iwaizumi has become familiar enough with to call it grief, “Did father send you to bring me back?”

Iwaizumi blinks, shaking his head, “Prince Tobio, I am here of my own volition.”

“Oh wait! I know you!” Prince Shouyou exclaims, “You were the really cool knight.”

Iwaizumi ignores him, keeping his gaze on his prince, “You believe Prince Tooru is alive, too?”

Prince Tobio looks away, “I know it’s, it’s silly, it’s been weeks,”

“It’s not silly,” Iwaizumi places a hand on his shoulder, pausing a moment before continuing, “Will you accompany us through Karasuno? I will tell you everything I know. We all will.”

Prince Tobio looks back over at the admission, eyes widening as he sees Yahaba and Kyoutani step out of their cover to join them. Prince Shouyou lets out a surprised noise.

“Yahaba?” Prince Tobio murmurs, eyebrows furrowing tightly against his eyes, “You’re...You’re _here_?”

Yahaba bows deeply, legs trembling, mouth moving anxiously before he has time to think of a proper greeting, “Sire, please, believe me, I would never ever harm Prince Tooru. The charges against me are a lie, please, please believe me.”

“Iwaizumi, did you, did you--?” Prince Tobio asks, taking a step back.

“Prince Tobio, we are here because we know where Prince Tooru is and we are going to bring him back,” Iwaizumi says carefully, bring his hands back to his sides.

Prince Tobio backs away further, face a painting of confusion, “Were you the one...Oh God, Father has been...I...”

Yahaba steps forward beside Iwaizumi, “Prince Tobio, we are here to help you.”

Iwaizumi nods, “Let us help you.”

Prince Tobio looks back over to Prince Shouyou who shrugs, nudging him forward. Prince Tobio grits his teeth, flushing slightly despite his glower, “Alright, we, we need to talk. Follow us.”

* * *

 

“I was not expecting so many guests, Prince Shouyou,” Lord Kei states icily, “Nor in such a...disgusting state.”

Iwaizumi steps on Kyoutani’s foot to prevent him from barking something rude out.

Lord Kei notices this but decides not to deem it with a response. Instead, he sweeps his eyes across them, distrustfully but with a hint of amusement, “Well, I suppose I can’t argue with a Prince, let alone two,” he sighs, “Yamaguchi! Draw our guests’ servants a bath and get them cleaned up. They can meet up with us in the drawing room when they are presentable.”

Iwaizumi grits his teeth behind his smile. What a rotten attitude from a _Lord_ , he thinks, especially one so young. He’s certain he’s about Prince Tobio’s age. Tall people were absolutely insufferable.

A sweet servant boy, Yamaguchi, Iwaizumi presumes, makes his way over to them with a shy smile. He leads them out to the baths and helps draw them water. It is a welcome luxury, after weeks toiling on the road, to relax in warm water and wash the grime off their skin.

When they dry off and are presented a clean change of servant’s clothes, Iwaizumi dares to ask for some scissors and a razor. Finally, he is able to give himself a proper shave, with a sharp clean blade. He rubs at his smooth skin with a sigh of relief.

Yahaba cuts Iwaizumi’s hair, as neat as he can. Kyoutani lets him do the same, grumbling a bit about watching out for his ears. Yahaba leaves his own hair be, other than to snip at his bangs to keep his vision clear.

They are lead into a drawing room. Iwaizumi appreciates the beauty of the interior, rich oranges and dark woods creating a warm environment of luxury. He wonders if Karasuno had grown richer in the four years since his last visited, or if the Tsukishima manor had better taste than the castle proper.

The nobles sit on cushions facing around a long table. Yamaguchi offers the entering guests cushions of their own, lining them up by the wall, out of sight.

“So you’re asking me a favor? You wish me to lie?” Lord Kei murmurs, hands leaning back to support himself.

“It’s not lying,” Prince Shouyou insists, “Just, stretching the truth. Only a little!”

“And why should I lie for the sake of a foreigner? Prince or not? Oh wait, or are you King by now?”

Prince Tobio bristles, teeth gritting, “I am _not_ the King.”

“My mistake,” Lord Kei chuckles, eyes flashing, “You must forgive my confusion. Aoba Johsai has been quite a mess recently hasn’t it?”

Prince Tobio’s glare is fierce enough to make Prince Shouyou shrink beside him.

Lord Kei is unaffected, smiling cooly, “How many down now? First the Queen, then the First Son, and now the King’s gone mad, hasn’t he?”

Prince Tobio stands up in his fury, but Lord Kei meets him there, towering over him, “I don’t understand your anger, Prince Tobio. Isn’t this quite the stroke of luck for you? To ascend so quickly, so easily? It’s like the stars have aligned to make you King.”

Prince Tobio grabs him by the collar, bring him down to his height. Lord Kei smiles, keeping his hands at his sides, “Unless, perhaps, Prince Tobio has no wish to be King at all? And that is why he runs from his kingdom? When they’ve fallen into chaos and need him most?

“Or is it, maybe, because the people would rather have chaos, then a selfish King they have no love for at all?”

Iwaizumi is at his own boiling point, hearing a noble talk trash of his kingdom, but before he can step in Prince Shouyou stands up, pulling the two apart, “Might I remind you that _I_ am still here and _I_ am in charge of _this_ kingdom,” he snaps, “Prince Tobio has his reasons. And this favor is to better his kingdom if you’re so concerned about it, Tsukishima. Now if you want to have a fight we can go outside. I’ll take you!”

Lord Kei blinks at the outburst, letting out a light chuckle, “You’re always so amusing, Prince Shouyou,” he murmurs as the redhead scowls at him, “I supposed I would have to follow any favor asked of me by the beloved Sun Prince of Karasuno, wouldn’t I? Though I do not see why helping Aoba Johsai from falling into collapse would be at all beneficial for us.”

“Strengthens our ties!” Prince Shouyou explains, pulling a scowling Prince Tobio closer to his side with a grin, “I’m a master of diplomacy, so just trust me, ok?”

“Right,” Lord Kei says, “I will give your servants provisions for their journey. And I will tell the Kings, if they ask, that you have lengthened your stay in my company. Is that all?”

It is. So, Lord Kei excuses himself into the hall, followed by a scampering Yamaguchi. Iwaizumi can’t help leaning out his head to follow them with his gaze, catching snippets of their conversation as they storm away.

“How can you waste your good fortune? How can you have everything other people would kill to have, and squander it like that? What an ungrateful idiot. People like him irritate me the most.”

Iwaizumi looks back over at the princes, finds Prince Tobio sitting back on the floor, grumbling to himself. Prince Shouyou purses his lips at him. He makes eye contact with Iwaizumi and raises his hands up in surrender.

Iwaizumi rises up, making his way to sit across from the heir, “Prince Tobio,” he starts. Prince Tobio does not look up from his glaring session with the floor. Iwaizumi licks his lips, “What did, what did Lord Kei mean by the King having gone mad?”

Prince Tobio drags his hand through his dark hair, “Father believes that a curse has been placed on the castle. Someone set fire to the orchards, and it consumed most of that part of the grounds. Yahaba escaped and the King swears the servants are to be blamed for all of this. He put the castle on lock down, no one can leave or come in. Even the visiting nobles are stuck there. He keeps writing to me, and the letters are becoming worse and worse. He wants me to come back, so that I can help him set a proper example.”

“That’s royal talk for he wants to execute a bunch of people,” Prince Shouyou explains helpfully.

“I know that, idiot!” Prince Tobio growls. He huffs, looking back at Iwaizumi, “I have never been good at talking to my father, I don’t think I’d be able to stop him. So the best I can do is...”

“Not go back?” Iwaizumi says, incredulously, “But that’s your home.”

“Is it?” Prince Tobio flares, anger still fresh from the recent argument, “I don’t know anymore. There’s nothing there for me.” He swallows, “Kindaichi made it very clear to me before I dismissed him in my anger. How everyone believes I’m just a selfish king to be, not fit to rule at all. Mother’s gone. Tooru never liked me, and now he’s gone too. Why would I go back to a place that doesn’t want me?”

Iwaizumi does not know what to say.

So he says nothing.

Prince Tobio grits his teeth.

Prince Shouyou lays a hand on his shoulder, “Just like I said before, you can stay here as long as you need, Kageyama! It’d be expensive to import so many meat buns if you stayed in Aoba Johsai anyway.”

Prince Tobio snaps at him, “Shut up!”

Prince Shouyou lets out a laugh, “Ho ho! You wanna go? I bet Tsukishima has a ton of meat buns in his kitchen. Who can eat the most first?”

“You’re on.” Prince Tobio agrees, standing up alongside the spritely redhead. But Iwaizumi grabs his forearm, making him pause.

“Aoba Johsai needs a leader, Prince Tobio” he says, carefully.

Prince Tobio squeezes his hands into fists, “I know,” he sighs, “But, I...I’m not ready for that. I need to...I need to figure a lot of things out,” he says, blue eyes glancing at the bright haired prince waiting for him with a hop in his step. Prince Tobio looks back at Iwaizumi, eyes steelier with resolve, “You believe Tooru’s out there right? I will help you, I will do anything to find my brother. To bring him back. To absolve myself of all of this,” he pulls free of Iwaizumi’s grip entirely, “We both know _he’s_ the rightful heir to Aoba Johsai’s throne, whether father agrees to it or not.”

Iwaizumi watches him go with the foreign prince, shoulders relaxed even as he argues with him. And Iwaizumi wonders what magic lives in Karasuno castle, to mature the young prince so quickly in such little time. If it was equal parts the loss of his mother and brother, or if, maybe, it came from the burgeoning friendship with the Sun Prince, the child beloved by its Kingdom, rumored to be made of pure joyful light.

Iwaizumi thinks, then, it would not be so terrible for Prince Tobio to stay here.

* * *

“This is the dumbest idea we’ve had this whole journey,” Kyoutani huffs, keeping low to the ground.

“There’s not much we can do about it,” Iwaizumi sighs, nudging him forward.

“At least they _both_ didn’t come,” Yahaba reminds.

“I could not spend another moment at Tsukishima’s manor. Don’t act like I’m useless,” Prince Tobio snaps back, crawling forward with a stern scowling face.

“If anything happens to him, you can blame it on me. It can just add to my tally,” Yahaba offers.

Kyoutani kicks him lightly, “Stop being a fucking martyr.”

“Stop fucking the mar-“ Yahaba teases back before receiving another angry kick.

“What are they talking about,” Prince Tobio asks, frowning.

Iwaizumi groans, “They’re beneath you sire, don’t pay them or he gross things they say, any mind.”

It only takes them a few days with the Princely escort to reach the Tri-Kingdom border. There they leave Prince Shouyou with their horses, sneaking into Fukurodani territory under the cover of darkness. Iwaizumi does not know how to feel about Prince Tobio’s insistence on his inclusion in this last part of the mission. Wonders if it truly is only about his dislike for the Karasuno Lord, or if it be from the amalgamation of guilt surely sinking through his system.

Iwaizumi decides not to question it. He is tired. The breeze is getting colder, heralding Winter’s coming arrival, and Iwaizumi longs to stop. To rest for more than a day. To go _home_.

But home is not a place, not really. Home is where Oikawa is, and he longs to be there again. So he trudges forward, desperately. Their destination so close now he can almost taste.

He can see it in the way the forest grows gloomier and darker, sees it in the coldness of his breath, feels it in the trepidation that gives him goose bumps along his neck. This darkness is not normal, its ethereal. He knows they must be close. He knows that Oikawa has to be here. Somewhere. Everywhere.

Part of him wishes to call out, to shout his name, to order him to stop this unnecessary hiding. To come back to him. But the other part knows that this is foolish. They can not be the only ones in these woods. Being found out now would be disastrous, especially by Fukurodani officials.

“Stay down!” Prince Tobio hisses, suddenly. In one quick move, he plucks an arrow from his back, drawing it upon his bow and firing it inches from Kyoutani’s head. The knight rears back, and inhuman squeal reverberates around them. Black talons retract from the fog, arrow still embedded into the scaly skin as it disappears.

Yahaba pulls Kyoutani back as the blond curses, “The _fuck_ was that?”

“Are we already in the cursed forest?” Iwaizumi mutters, drawing his sword out and crouching low, keeping close to his companions.

Prince Tobio draws another arrow, blue eyes searching the grassy area around them for any hint of movement. He shivers suddenly, as if a coldness brushed against him and he swivels around. Iwaizumi ducks so as not to get hit by the waving arrow, “Watch it.”

Prince Tobio doesn’t reply, swiveling around and around. His calm precise motions becoming more erratic and panicked.

“Sire, are you alright?” Yahaba asks, stepping toward him, lowering his dagger.

“Shut up! Shut up!” Prince Tobio orders, but he’s not looking at Yahaba. He’s looking all over the place. He fires an arrow, it hits a tree, embedding in the bark uselessly.

His blue eyes are wide as they swivel back toward Iwaizumi, fingers trembling, “Make them stop!” He shouts.

Iwaizumi takes a step forward, and Prince Tobio fires his next arrow, scraping across his shin painfully, blood starting to drip down his legs. He lets out a pained hiss, hands coming down to clutch at the new wound.

He hears a voice in his head, _are you alright?_

Iwaizumi keeps his gaze on Prince Tobio’s shaking form. The boy has dropped his bow entirely, staring at the ground and mumbling to himself. Iwaizumi can’t help but think, in turn, _I’m fine, but something is terribly wrong with Prince Tobio._

Iwaizumi shudders, eyes blinking into temporary blindness. There is only darkness around him and terror seizes. But it only for the briefes of moments, because one he blinks again, he can see. He feels winded. He shakes his head out of the coolness that had overtaken him.

Kyoutani is by his side, Yahaba stepping toward the panicking Prince with soothing words. But there’s something else. Iwaizumi tears his eyes away from the scene in favor to look around, because now that he can look away he can feel it. There’s someone else here, _something_ else here. A dark, horrendous presence in the shadows, building up with dread.

And then Iwaizumi sees it, it’s hunkering mass growing, and he’s not sure how he could not see it before. It rises from the darkness of a tree, amassing itself in a plume of black smoke, right behind Prince Tobio. Skinny spindling talons coming down towards the boy, shaking on the ground, pulling at his own hair. Following the spindly arms up the shadow he can see a white, oval mask smiling at him.

He feels his legs stiffen up under him in terror.

How does Yahaba not see it? Or Kyoutani for that matter? Both keep their gaze locked on Prince Tobio’s panic attack, bodies unable to move from both fear and confusion. Iwaizumi tries to get his body to comply, fingers twitching to get to his sword at his side and ready it.

And then, suddenly, there is a fifth presence.

There is a whistle in the air, a sudden gust of wind that billows around them, a dark and foreboding aura encompassing them all, it’s force pushing away at the plumes of smoke. And suddenly a demon rises in their midst, shielding Prince Tobio’s crouching form from the growing darkness.

His wears a dark cloak, hood up. Sharp talons glint in the evening light. The wind pushes the hood back, revealing feral brown hair, and long spiraling horns. Yahaba lets out a shriek, as if revisited by a nightmare, and he backs away completely, grappling for Kyoutani’s arm to pull him back too.

The demon lets out an inhuman snarl, thin tail whipping out. The dark force seems to shrink back, and in that moment’s reprieve the demon bends down to pick the limp Prince up from the ground, shoving him into Iwaizumi’s arm.

It is then, and only then that he makes eye contact with him.

Brown eyes stare into green and Iwaizumi feels his knees about to buckle.

But there is no time for that, because the shadow lets out a sudden bellow. Oikawa doesn’t look back at it, keeps his gaze focused on Iwaizumi, then he lifts his arm and _points_.

Iwaizumi follows the motion toward the tree in question and knows what he needs to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there goes another!
> 
> I am overwhelmed by your comments from last chapter, and I apologize for the cliff hanger. I don't know if this chapter makes up for it but just trust me and be patient! 
> 
> Next chapter is most likely the last! Thank you so much for all of your support. This story has been super fun to write and experiment with. This chapter was a bit tough to write through but your comments fueled me onwards haha!
> 
> if you ever want to talk u can find me at my tumblr: findingschmomo.tumblr.com
> 
> anyway, until next time!


	5. Part V - Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi isn’t facing him, absolutely refuses to do so, but he can still feel Oikawa’s smile on his back. And the warmth of it makes him curl up and bury his face in his hands. Because he’s a knight, god damn it.   
> But he’s always been weak to his Prince.

Iwaizumi herds his terrified companions toward the tree. Kyoutani hauls himself up to the first branch, helping Yahaba up and then grabbing the Prince from Iwaizumi’s outstretched arms. Kyoutani reaches for him next but Iwaizumi takes a step back.

“Iwaizumi, where are you going?” Yahaba asks, wary, holding the Prince to his chest as Kyoutani goes for the next branch.

“I have to help him. Keep moving up,” Iwaizumi responds, taking another step back.

“Help _who?_ You’re leaving us? Again?”

“Protect the Prince!” Iwaizumi shouts, running back toward the smokey clearing. Kyoutani stops Yahaba from jumping down, urging him upwards instead with an angry grunt. Yahaba bites his lip but follows suit.

Iwaizumi finds Oikawa keeping his distance from the shadowy beast, arms outstretched in warning. Iwaizumi unsheathes his sword, creeping closer. He makes eye contact with the demon who blinks at him before sending a fierce glare, “Stay back, Iwa-chan!”

“Watch out!” Iwaizumi calls, lunging forward. In the moment of distraction, the beast had raised its inky talons to swipe at Oikawa’s face. Iwaizumi is able to slice his sword right through the arm, watching the blade cut nothing but dissipating smoke. He makes a tsking noise behind his gritted teeth.

Oikawa’s back presses against his own, as they steel themselves from all directions, “Your sword isn’t going to do anything,” the demon snaps.

“Sure seems to distract it though, smart-ass,” Iwaizumi counters, lunging at another talon creeping too close to them.

Oikawa huffs, “Someone’s grumpy.”

“Grumpy? Are you serious? I chase your ass down for _months_ and--“

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cries, pulling him back as talons claw at the space he once occupied, “We can fight later. Just, just do what I say.”

Iwaizumi catches his breath, raising his sword, “Fine, _Your Highness_. What should I do?”

“I think you’re right. The swords distracting it. Just, keep it busy. Make sure it doesn’t touch either of us. I need to focus,” Oikawa orders and then takes a step back.

Iwaizumi nods, feet falling into a rhythm as he dances with the monster. He tries to keep his eyes on the skinny smokey arms, unable to bear looking at the haunting mask it hosts for a face for long. He cuts at the fog, seeing it dissipate with every whip and slash of his sword. But it does not do any lasting damage, and he can feel himself tiring from the exercise. Footwork getting sloppy, sweat beading into his eyes making his vision blurry.

An arrow whirls past him, striking the creature’s center, slipping straight through it unimpeded. He glances up in surprise, seeing Yahaba brandishing Prince Tobio’s bow far above. Iwaizumi ducks out of the way as another arrow whips past him, near where the creatures neck would be. It passes through the smoke with a whiff.

Iwaizumi is close to shouting at Yahaba to stop because dodging arrows _and_ a shadow monster is too much for his tired brain to deal with at the moemnt. A third arrow shoots, and Iwaizumi sees how that it’s aimed even higher. This time the beast dodges it, slinking to the left quickly.

Iwaizumi squints, pausing in his maneuvers as he realizes Yahaba’s game.

He’s aiming for the creature’s _mask_.

He hears a curse far above him. A quick glance up confirms Yahaba’s slipped back into the foliage, havign run out of arrows. Iwaizumi steadies himself, heaving his sword up and lunging forward to slash across the mask himself. The beast is faster, swinging to the side to evade his blade. Iwaizumi lets out an annoyed grunt, whipping back around to try again.

And then suddenly, the area around him lights up.

Iwaizumi freezes in shock, taking a step back in surprise. Around him a ringlet of fire has burst, the flames licking up higher and higher, until they are as tall as his waist. A hand grabs his shoulder, pulling him close. He startles, but relaxes when he realizes it’s just Oikawa, pulling him to his chest, his other arm outstretched, reciting words he can not even hope to comprehend.

The beast begins to screech, scrunching up its form to hide away from the flames. It moves around desperately trying to break free of the circle, but the flames only grow higher. The beast continues it’s wailing, screaming as it slowly disappears into absolute nothingness. Until it is no more.

The mask clatters to the ground.

Oikawa stops his chanting at the sound and the fire around them ceases. He stumbles forward, picking up the offending mask and breaking it over his knee, letting the pieces fall to the ground.

And then he too falls to the ground himself, absolutely exhausted.

Iwaizumi rushes toward him, crouching down, “Oikawa? Oikawa? Are you ok?”

Oikawa leans his head against the other’s shoulder, taking in haggard breaths, “Just tired,” he murmurs.

“So you’re sure you’re absolutely fine?” Iwaizumi presses.

Oikawa hums, lifting his head up to smile at him.

Iwaizumi slaps him, hard.

Oikawa lets out a whine, hand coming up to clutch at his face. And then he is practically barreled into by Iwaizumi, arms wrapping around him with a crushing intensity, “You _fucking_ idiot!” Iwaizumi yells, fingers digging into his back, “Do you know the absolute hell you put me through with this stunt? How _dare_ you just leave like that! The fuck’s wrong with you?”

Oikawa hugs back, just as fiercely, “I didn’t know what else to do,” he whispers.

“So you run away?”

Oikawa pulls back, “It sounds stupid when you say it.”

“Because it is stupid,” Iwaizumi insists, taking Oikawa’s face with his hands, thumb massaging the reddening cheeck, “You’re a stupid, stupid, stupid, man, Oikawa.”

Oikawa can’t help the laugh bubbling up past his teary eyes, “Do you still love this stupid, stupid, stupid man?”

Iwaizumi presses his lips to his for a much to quick peck, “More than I can comprehend.”

Oikawa pulls him back for another kiss, and another, and another, until Iwaizumi is forced to pry him off. Oikawa takes in a breath during the reprieve, looking up at the knight as he stands. Iwaizumi offers him a hand, hauling him off of the ground, “But I’m still pissed at you.”

“Aren’t you always?” Oikawa sighs.

“Like, _super_ pissed at you,” Iwaizumi continues, “You’re not charming your way out of the nonsense you’ve put everyone through. You owe us a lot of apologies.”

“I’m sorry, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa replies, voice soft like the breeze tickling his bangs, fingers playing with each other.

Iwaizumi is unimpressed, “Save it for Yahaba.”

“Yahaba?”

“Yeah, he’s the one who’s ground you need to worship. Now come help me get the kids out of the tree.”

Iwaizumi pads over to the tree, Oikawa in tow. He cups his hands around his mouth to shout, “Kyoutani! Yahaba! It’s safe now!”

There’s a pause, “What about the demon!” Yahaba calls back, remaining invisible behind the foliage. Iwaizumi is impressed he was able to fire so many arrows with so little visibility.

“You can ask him yourself!” Iwaizumi huffs, letting his hands fall from his face to rest on his hips.

Kyoutani’s legs come into view as he climbs down a branch, “What does that even mean?” he growls petulantly, reaching his arms up to take Prince Tobio’s limp body. He offers the boy to Iwaizumi, who holds him bridal style in his arms carefully. He scrunches his eyebrows, mouth forming a thin line. Without the distracting action surrounding him, he can fully take in his state.

It is not that the Prince has passed out, but that he is completely limp in his arms. The boy’s eyes are vacant, staring up at him with an empty expression. His arms hang uselessly at his sides, all of his muscles lax. It makes Iwaizumi shudder to look at. He turns to Oikawa, “Is he alright?”

Oikawa extends his hands for his younger brother, taking him in his arms carefully and easily as if he was the lightest thing in the world. He presses his ear to the boy’s chest a moment, giving a little nod, “He’ll be ok. It must have gotten him, so he’ll be feeling the effects for a few hours. He should be fine by morning.”

Iwaizumi frowns, wary.

Oikawa manhandles his brother a moment, wrapping the boys legs around his waist and his arms around his neck. Prince Tobio presses his face into Oikawa’s shoulders, muscles spasming to squeeze around him. Oikawa rubs his back lightly with a sigh, drawing soothing circles across his shoulder blade, “Why did you force him out here?”

“He insisted on finding you,” Iwaizumi spits back.

Oikawa purses his lips, face flushing as he looks away.

Kyoutani plops down from the tree, reaching up to help Yahaba down after him. The pair tense up at the sight of the demon, cradling the Prince beside Iwaizumi. And then fear dissolves into confusion as Yahaba takes a step forward, eyes squinting in disbelief, “Prince Tooru?”

Oikawa presents his signature smile, giving him a flourishing bow despite the catatonic thirteen year old in his arms, “Long time no see, Yahaba!”

No one is amused by the display. Yahaba steps even closer, eyebrows trembling, “I thought...I thought you _died_. I thought a demon, a demon _killed_ you.”

Oikawa licks his lips nervously, readjusting his grip on his brother, “Well, Yahaba, you see, it’s quite a long story but, I, err, panicked. And, decided on the spot I could not go to Shiratorizawa, and I came up with an, albeit messy, plan to get myself out.”

“By faking your death? And, and, making a pact with a demon?” Yahaba questions, eyes searching for answers.

“Pact with a demon?” Oikawa blinks, “Oh, oh no, Yahaba, you see, this...Umm, hmm, how do I say this, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi lets out a sigh, lifting his hand up to grab at one of Oikawa’s thick horns. He wrenches it down, enjoying how Oikawa shouts out and is forced forwards. He lets go of him before he can drop Prince Tobio by accident, “Prince Tooru was born a half-demon. He’s been like this the whole time.”

Once Oikawa recovers from the manhandling, he straightens himself back up, smiling sheepishly at the two teens.

The blood drains from Yahaba’s face, confusion over taking his visage, “This...This whole time?...” Confusion distorts into anger as his eyebrows scrunch down toward his eyes, voice raising “But, I’ve _dressed_ you. Hell, I’ve bathed you! What are you saying?”

“Can we have this discussion away from this forest, so I can put Tobio down?” Oikawa offers instead, looking over at Iwaizumi for any sort of mercy, brown eyes big and pleading.

Iwaizumi hates that it works so easily. But he must admit he too is exhausted. He lets out a sigh, “Let’s head back toward the clearing we slept in last night. It shouldn’t be that far.”

Yahaba is none too happy with this development, but he keeps his mouth shut. His companion, however, does not, eyes distrustful and full of annoyance, “When do we get to kill him?” Kyoutani grumbles.

“Kill me?”

“You almost got Yahaba executed you self-centered asshole!” Kyoutani snaps, stomping his foot down as they walk.

“Language, Kyoutani,” Iwaizumi reminds, “I already punched him.”

“Yeah, well when do _I_ get to punch him.”

“We’ll talk.”

“Iwa-chan, I would prefer to not be punched.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should have thought of that before making literally everyone in Aoba Johsai’s life a living hell,” Iwaizumi spits, not turning around to face him as he keeps leading them away.

Oikawa frowns, speeding up his walk and holding onto Prince Tobio a bit tighter, “What are you talking about?”

Iwaizumi snorts, “You have a lot to catch up on, _Your Highness_.”

* * *

After being interrogated by two furious teenagers, Prince Tooru is able to escape their ire to check on his younger brother’s condition. Prince Tobio stares at him vacantly as Oikawa nudges him to sit up, propping the boy up between his legs, so his back rests against his chest.

Prince Tobio looks up at him, blinking his eyes, features completely expressionless. Then he looks back down at the ground. Iwaizumi comes over to them, canteen in hand. He helps Prince Tobio slowly but greedily drink from the pouch.

Iwaizumi bites his lip, “You’re sure he’ll be ok? He hasn’t said a word in hours.”

Oikawa nods, letting one hand wrap around the Prince’s torso to pull him closer and keep him from falling over. His other hand smooths the boy’s black hair, moving it out of his eyes and tucking a few strands behind his ears, “That creature, it gets into your head, sucks up all your emotions until you’re completely dry. But the effect lasts only twelve hours max. It’s prolonged exposure to them that can be deadly. Don’t worry. He’ll wake up his normal scowling self.”

Iwaizumi purses his lips, still uncertain.

Oikawa smiles at Iwaizumi, nuzzling into his little brother’s hair. He bats his eyes at his knight above thesmothering, “Plus, isn’t he so much cuter like this? When he isn’t saying stupid things and copying my every move?”

“You’re such an ass,” Iwaizumi sighs.

Oikawa giggles, helping Prince Tobio back to resting on the ground carefully, smoothing a few locks down one last time, “You’ll take good care of him, Iwa-chan. I know it.”

Iwaizumi narrows his eyes, “Oikawa.”

Oikawa smiles at him, leaning forward to press a kiss on his forehead. Iwaizumi blinks at him, eyes still squinting. Oikawa stands up.

Iwaizumi’s arm rockets out to grab the other’s wrist, “Oikawa,” he says slowyly, “You’re coming back with us.”

Oikawa’s smile slips from his face and he lets his head shake sadly, “I can’t go back, Iwa-chan. You know that. It was good seeing you. But I just... I can’t go back.”

Iwaizumi stares at him, standing up and refusing to loosen his grip on the Prince, “Then what are you going to do? Live in these shitty woods your whole life?”

“It’s not so bad,” Oikawa can’t meet his eyes.

Iwaizumi forces him to do so by grabbing his collar and pulling him closer, “You’re pissing me off,” he warns, green eyes searching the shielded face, finding little to hold on to. His eyes widen and now he’s shaking his head, incredulously, “Are you serious? The King’s gone mad! Your people _need_ you!”

Oikawa shoves him away, voice raising, “They don’t want me. Not when they realize what I really am.”

“Yes they will! Do you seriously believe what you’re saying?” Iwaizumi grabs at him again, fingers digging into Oikawa’s biceps.

“I’m a monster, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi slams their foreheads together, earning him a pained squawk from the other. Hopefully it also knocks some sense into Oikawa’s thick skull, “You’re not a monster! And if anyone tells you otherwise you have me to sort them out.” He crouches down, grabbing Oikawa’s collar once more to help pick him up off the ground, “Stop acting like you’re all alone in this world! You have so many people who love and support you, just open your damn eyes!

Iwaizumi lets go of his collar, hands too shaky to keep holding on to him, “I support you. Yahaba supports you. Lord Takahiro and Matsukawa support you. Prince Tobio supports you. Hell! Even Ushiwaka supports you! Our people _need_ you right now, Tooru, and if you go to them I know they’ll accept you.”

Oikawa stares at him, fingers digging into the dirt around them, squeezing tight as tears prickle at his eyes.

Iwaizumi stands up again, offering out his hand. Oikawa takes it, allowing himself to be hauled up. Iwaizumi looks at him sternly, hands still clasped, “Everyone in Aoba Johsai knows you’re their rightful King. So come home, and take back what’s always been yours.”

Iwaizumi stumbles slightly as Oikawa pulls him close, pressing their lips together. After overcoming the initial shock he acquiesces easily. He wraps his arms around Oikawa’s neck, arching his back to press closer against him, kissing him deeper.

Oikawa pulls away, head bent down to lean against Iwaizumi’s shoulder, “Iwa-chan,” Oikawa murmurs, “You’re too good to me.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Iwaizumi huffs gruffly, pulling back, “I’ll be with you the whole time. You trust me, right?”

“I trust you,” Oikawa responds, instantaneously, as if it’s the one thing he’s never had to overthink in his entire life.

Iwaizumi kisses him one more time before disentangling their arms all together. When he looks up he finds Oikawa smiling down at him, and the expression makes him flush, heat creeping up his neck to overtake his entire face.

Which reminds him.

“Oh, right,” he mutters, tearing his gaze away from the loving look Oikawa is destroying him with to square up his face into a severe scowl, “What the fuck did you to my neck, Demon Boy?”

Oikawa blinks before realization dawns on his face and he laughs, sheepishly, “You noticed?”

Iwaizumi pulls back the cloth from his neck, “ _I_ didn’t but the world sure did. Why’d you put a fucking pentagram on me, asshole?”

Oikawa puts his hands up in surrender, “I read about it in one of my books. Demons don’t necessarily have corporeal forms, in the sense that humans do. To stay in the human world they need to anchor themselves to people, marking them in someway.”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi mutters, anger disipating, “So this was to make sure you didn’t get lost in the demon realm or something?”

“Well yeah,” Oikawa purses his lips, “But, since i’m half human I _do_ have a corporeal form so it’s not really necessary for me.”

Iwaizumi’s anger returns to him in full force, “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“But!” Oikawa adds, quickly, “It also lets me link up with you if I need to.”

“Link up?”

“Demons main interaction in our world is through possession. In other words, taking complete control of the host’s body for however long they like. It’s harder for me because, unlike most demons, I already have a body...and uh, when I possess something my body just kinda...sits there, empty. I don’t want to lose it though, I mean, where could I ever find a body like this?”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“Iwa-chan! I only ever did it to make sure you were safe. If I hadn’t, that monster might have preyed on all of you! I would have had no idea where you were!” Oikawa insists, taking a step back.

“You fucking branded me without my permission. And now you’re telling me you can get in my head whenever you want to? This is bullshit,” Iwaizumi huffs, rubbing at the small mark on his neck.

“Only for emergencies! Don’t worry!” Oikawa replies.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “Is it a two way street atleast? Can I mess with your head?”

Oikawa shrugs, “I’m knew to all this as well. It’s not like I’ve got someone teaching me. And, surprise, wild demons aren’t that helpful.” The Prince bites his lip, a smile teasing onto his face, “Plus, I think it’s kinda cute.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

* * *

 

They have to wait for Prince Tobio to recover before moving onwards, spending the rest of the next day setting out their plan of attack. Oikawa keeps his eyes peeled for any other worldly activity prowling nearby, while Iwaizumi patrols the area regularly for any Fukurodani citizens or officials. Luckily enough it seems the reputation of the forest keeps most people out.

Yahaba keeps an eye on Prince Tobio, giving him water and food as he slowly regains his wits. The scowl returns to his features as he draws into himself. And finally, by evening of the next day he is able to start speaking again, “I did not know you and Iwaizumi were...”

Iwaizumi reddens, Oikawa gives a chuckle, “Oh Tobio-chan, what ever would give you that idea?”

“You made out in front of me,” Prince Tobio remarks, “Multiple times.”

Oikawa’s eyes twitch, “Ah, so, I guess, you remember everything, then, don’t you?”

“Were you guys trying to be subtle about it?” Kyoutani barks by the fire he’s finished making. Yahaba snickers into his hand, “I mean, you’re even holding hands right now.”

Oikawa pulls his hand away with a pout, finding it atop Iwaizumi’s as if pulled by nature itself. Yahaba turns his face away to hide his laughter unsuccessfully. Prince Tobio glowers at it all.

Oikawa lets out a cough, clearing his throat and changing the conversation completely, “Now that we’re awake, Tobio, dear, is it true what Iwa-chan says? That you have no interest in being the heir?” Oikawa asks, leaning closer.

Prince Tobio looks away, fingers pulling at the grass around him, “I’m not even fourteen yet,” he mutters.

“But when you’re of age? What then?” Oikawa presses.

Prince Tobio’s face reddens, and Oikawa squints his eyes at him. When the boy gives no more answer, Oikawa lets out a sigh, leaning back, “Well, you have time to think it over. How long did it take you all to get here?”

“Years,” Kyoutani groans.

“A couple months,” Yahaba clarifies.

“Well, do we want to take the same route through Shiratorizawa? Or just enter from the Karasuno border into Aoba Johsai. It would be faster that way,” Oikawa wonders aloud.

“But the King would know about it and try to stop us,” Iwaizumi reminds.

“Unless,” Oikawa continues, a smirk alighting his features, “He doesn’t know _I’m_ the one coming back,” his eyes sweep the area before falling back on Prince Tobio, extending an arm to wrap around his shoulder, “What if it’s just his dear, favorite son heeding his beck and call and returning home? I’m sure he would be very excited to get his heir back into the castle as soon as possible.”

Prince Tobio tenses at the idea, fingers digging into his drawn up knees.

Iwaizumi scratches his chin, “That could work, but, we have like, two horses and five people to bring. Four of those people _can’t_ be seen or your cover is blown. There’s no way.”

“Iwa-chan, you have so little faith. Leave the strategizing to me,” Oikawa assures, “I’m certain Karasuno would love to lend Prince Tobio a carriage to head home in as a symbol of our growing partnership,” he squeezes Prince Tobio’s shoulder, even as the boy tries to shrug him off.

Iwaizumi helps pry Oikawa off of his brother’s side, luring him away to give the teen some reprieve from his meddling touch. Of course that only invites Oikawa’s meddling touch on his own person, something he’s not quite used to but not necessarily averse to either.

It’s still weird. To go from spending years apart, weeks getting closer, and months with nothing at all to Oikawa’s constant touch. It makes him dizzy. He’s learned more things about his Prince in these past two days then he had in the last four years. Like how Oikawa loves to kiss him, needs to kiss him, not necessarily on the lips but anywhere and everywhere he can get a hold of. Constantly pecking at his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids. Tonguing at his neck, his hands, every square of skin allowed him. As if tortured with a thirst only Iwaizumi can quench.

And Iwaizumi learns even more, like the spot near the base of Oikawa’s neck that makes him shudder, or the fact that Oikawa squirms around, in constant motion, whenever Iwaizumi’s fingers dance along his skin. How his fangs grow sharper, his eyes gleam redder, and his tail whips around, as if his mind can’t be bothered to focus on his image because of what Iwaizumi’s touch does to him.

And they barely do _anything_ , in all honesty. Because they’re in the woods, and there are three teenagers never too far from them. But the reactions Iwaizumi sees and _feels_ burn a desire within him so intense he’s not sure how to fan it down at all. It’s excruciating. But he swallows it all down and tries to stay focused.

They cross back over the Tri-Kingdom border easily enough, but it takes another few days to traverse through Karasuno’s territory back toward the Tsukishima Manor. By the time the group reaches the estate even Prince Tobio looks worse for wear.

(Oikawa looks impeccable as always, but Iwaizumi knows it’s only due to his illusion magic doing its job so it should not be counted.)

Prince Shouyou ushers them in quickly, despite Lord Kei’s reservations. However, those too evaporate when he sees the ghost of Prince Tooru enter his manor in all his royal glory. He takes a step back, furrowing his brow, “Prince Tooru?”

Prince Tooru bows with a flourish, “Thank you, Lord Kei for your family’s hospitality, it will surely not go unnoticed. I have heard so much about you from my dear, sweet younger brother! I would love to have a chat with you over tea, but first, would it be possible for me and my companions to make use of your baths?”

Lord Kei makes a tch sound with his tongue, turning away to mumble something to Yamaguchi. He gives his guest a forced smile, hard enough that his eyes close in the process, “Of course. It is a pleasure to meet you. Yamaguchi will take care of you.”

The Princes are bathed first and once they’re finished, their companions are able to wash off. When Iwaizumi leaves the baths he finds Oikawa toying with the blond aristocrat mercilessly, devilish smile in place. Iwaizumi sighs, dragging Oikawa away with a harsh whispered reminder of the _plan_. Right. The plan.

Cornering Prince Shouyou is easy enough. The Sun Prince seems to be sour about the aristocrat as well and is literally bouncing up and down waiting to hear from Prince Tobio how the mission went. He is full of questions, eyes bright and mouth running a mile a minute until Prince Tobio shouts at him to be quiet.

“Prince Shouyou,” Oikawa starts once he’s able to find space in the whirlwind conversation, “How would you like to be an integral part of the next part of our mission, hmm?”

“Uwah?” Prince Shouyou vocalizes in his excitement, “Yes! How? This is so cool!”

Oikawa looks over at his brother, “Tobio-chan, go on, tell your friend how he can help.”

Prince Tobio glowers, “He’s not my friend.”

Prince Shouyou rolls his eyes, “Don’t mind him. Kageyama doesn’t really know what friends are.”

Oikawa snickers into his hand. Prince Tobio glares at the ginger, “Why would I ever want to be friends with an idiot?”

“Why would _I_ ever want to be friends with a stupid head?” Prince Shouyou counters.

“That’s a dumb insult.”

“You’re a dumb insult.”

Oikawa claps his hands together, “Tobio-chan!”

Prince Tobio grits his teeth but squares his shoulders, looking intently at the other Prince, “We need your help getting back to Aoba Johsai. We need a carriage that can hide the four of them without arising suspicion.”

Prince Shouyou blinks, “Why do you need to hide?”

“The King can’t know he’s coming back, not until we reach the castle proper,” Prince Tobio explains.

“But why? Shouldn’t he be excited that Prince Tooru’s ok?”

Prince Tobio fumbles then, mouth twisting as he tries to come up with anything to prove his point. That is, until Oikawa lets out a sigh, “It’s fine. It’s all coming out soon enough anyway. Might as well practice this part too.”

Prince Shouyou’s eyes widen as the image of Prince Tooru distorts, for just a moment, before clearing up. Revealing spiraling horns, red tinged eyes and a fanged smile. He bristles, leaning back and holding his hands up defensively in his signature fighting stance. Prince Tobio puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him from running out. Iwaizumi’s eyes watch him carefully, alert.

“You see, Father would prefer it if I _didn’t_ return,” Oikawa explains with a bitter chuckle.

“You were turned into a demon?” Prince Shouyou murmurs, tone akin to awe.

“I have always been a demon,” Oikawa grins, making a point to show of his fangs, eyes icy.

“Half-demon,” Iwaizumi corrects.

Prince Shouyou blinks, and then, surprising everyone, all his attention is turned onto Prince Tobio,“Wait, are you a demon too? Why didn’t you tell me!”

Prince Tobio bristles at the accusation, “I am not!”

“But I thought you were brothers!”

“Half-brothers,” Iwaizumi corrects.

“Are you sure you’re not?” Prince Shouyou asks, hands flying out to muss through Prince Tobio’s hair. He pulls at the strands, digging around his scalp for any hidden horns. Prince Tobio swats his hands angrily.

“Of course I’m sure!” Prince Tobio glowers, shoving the Sun Prince away from him, “You don’t think I ever asked?”

“Wait,” Prince Tooru interjects, “You asked Father if you were a demon child too?” he can’t help letting out a burst of a laugh, “How did _that_ go?”

Prince Tobio glares back, hands still holding Prince Shouyou’s wrists away from him, “He hit me, of course.”

Prince Tooru’s smirk drops. Prince Shouyou frowns, “That’s not ok.”

“Most of what our father does can be categorized as ‘not ok’.” Prince Tobio clears his throat again, “Will you help us or not?”

Prince Shouyou purses his lips, glancing between all the party members before breaking into a radiant smile, “Of course, Kageyama! I can tell my dads I need the large carriage because I’m going with you to visit Aoba Johsai for moral support! And that way we can hide them easy.”

“Will the Kings of Karasuno accept that?” Iwaizumi asks skeptically.

“Hmm?” Prince Shouyou blinks, “Oh! If its for Kageyama they’ll let me. My dads love him.”

Prince Tobio flushes a little, looking away. Prince Tooru quirks an eyebrow, eyes widening as he finally solves a pesky puzzle that had been toying with his brain for the past few days. “How wonderful,” he purrs, “Tobio-chan, I’m so proud of your _diplomacy_ skills.”

Prince Tobio glares at him.

“Well, I guess that settles it?” Iwaizumi decides, cutting through the teasing to keep them all on task.

Prince Shouyou nods, “We can start riding to the castle in the morning!”

“While we’re there, I’ll need to write a few letters,” Prince Tooru adds as they separate, “And Prince Tobio will need to send word to Father of his return.” Prince Tobio lets out a sigh, but nods all the same.

“And,” Oikawa adds, leaning forward so only his brother can hear, “Should I break the news or you? Of your plans of elopement?”

Prince Tobio shoves him away, scarlet faced, and stomps towards his guest quarters without another word. Prince Shouyou follows after him curiously, fluttering about him and chanting the same pesky question, “What did he say? What did he say? Kageyama! What did he say?”

Iwaizumi jabs Oikawa in the side with his elbow when they’re alone, winding him, “Don’t be a dick to your brother. Especially when he’s the key part of this entire plan you’ve come up with.”

Oikawa clutches at his side, “He’s only important for the getting there part. The rest is all me. God, Iwa-chan! That actually hurt!”

“Making up for lost time, asshole.”

* * *

They spend a few days at the Karasuno castle. Prince Tobio responds to his father’s letters and awaits a response. Oikawa smuggles him letters to send to Ushijima and Lord Takahiro from his hiding spot a few miles from the castle grounds where he stays with Iwaizumi, Yahaba and Kyoutani.

The letters themselves are short and vague, written by Yahaba to mask their true author. The one to Lord Takahiro who, Iwaizumi assumes, is still likely stuck in the castle if the lock down rumors are true, is only a sentence long, “See you soon.”

Ushijima’s is a little longer. Oikawa feels a bit safer divulging more information. He doubts his father could intercept it coming from Karasuno. He writes, “Ushiwaka-chan, I’m on my way back. If things go my way, I’ll need back up. Where do you stand?”

“What the hell can he do if the country is closed off to everyone?” Iwaizumi points out, reading the words over his shoulder.

Oikawa clucks his tongue, “Iwa-chan, it’s all about future planning. If I am to take the throne like this, I will need all the support I can get. You said it yourself. I’ll need him to vouch for me on the international scale. I don’t think the word of a 14 year old is going to mean much. So called ’Sun Prince’ or not.”

Iwaizumi snorts, “There’s something in that kid’s eyes. He’s going places.”

Oikawa nods, “Scary isn’t it? I can’t imagine the trouble he’ll cause with Tobio-chan at his side. Karasuno might be becoming less of a joke after all.”

Iwaizumi lays back down in the grass, hands coming to pillow the back of his head as he looks up at the stars. Oikawa lies down beside him, snuggling close. Iwaizumi sighs, but he scooches closer as well, “You really think this will work?”

“No idea,” Oikawa replies honestly, and the words are tired as they leave him, “But it’s all I got left in me.”

Iwaizumi turns himself onto his side, bringing one hand up to rest underneath his head and leaving the other to lay against his side. He faces Oikawa now, who doesn’t budge from his pose, gazing up at the stars. Iwaizumi’s eyes take in all of the Prince that he can, following the line of his profile, along his perfect nose to his chin, down his long neck. His fingers dig into the grass beneath his head, his heart clenching painfully in his chest.

He murmurs, quietly, almost too quietly, “I’m sorry I left you alone for so long.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen, face turning to look at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi quickly rolls over and away, face flaming up at his own words.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Go to bed. We’re leaving in the morning.”

Iwaizumi isn’t facing him, absolutely refuses to do so, but he can still feel Oikawa’s smile on his back. And the warmth of it makes him curl up and bury his face in his hands. Because he’s a _knight_ , god damn it.

But he’s always been weak to his Prince.

By morning Prince Tobio has arrived at their secluded camp with the carriage in tow. The three royals and Iwaizumi climb into it, while Yahaba and Kyoutani climb atop Lady and Pumpkin respectively.

Iwaizumi sleeps through most of the journey, bored by royal chatter and exhausted from his months on the road. He leans against Oikawa’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He stirs occasionally, whenever Oikawa shifts or when his hands comb through his hair, but he never minds enough to bother waking up.

The journey takes a few days but is relatively uneventful. They pause before the border in order for Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Kyoutani and Yahaba to hide amongst the carriage luggage. Oikawa focuses his aura on pushing gazes away to keep them hidden. Prince Shouyou chats up the border guards, and Prince Tobio shows the letter from his father granting him permission to return. 

They pass through with little investigation, the guards greeting the returning Prince with stiff nods. Traveling through Aoba Johsai is tense. Oikawa keeps his hood up and his face down. Yet, most people pay them no mind. Many are preparing for winter’s arrival, probably only days away at this point. They keep to their work, chopping wood and stowing away food for the coming cold long months.

Winters in Aoba Johsai tend to be mild, milder than Datekou’s and Karasuno’s, at the very least. But there is always the chance of unexpected blizzards, and so the people prepare all the same. The last few winters had not been the kindest.

By the time their ensemble finally reach the castle gates, the first snow drifts downwards from the sky, fluffy and light. The sky is gray, the wind chilly and the entire world feels like it has stopped for the moment. The guards at the gate greet Prince Tobio with little fanfare, faces haggard and pointed downward.

Iwaizumi longs to speak with them, his longtime friends, and ask what has happened to bring them such gloom. The grounds as they pass through, are unkept, and there is no sight of any servants milling about the area. It feels...deserted.

The two native Princes share a look when they pry their gazes from the carriage window.

“Are you ready?” Iwaizumi asks, as the castle looms ahead of them.

“I have to be,” Oikawa responds, but there’s a tinge of a tremor in his voice.

* * *

When Prince Tobio enters into the Great Hall there is silence. Prince Shouyou steps in behind him, keeping close, eyes owlish as he stares about the giant room. Crowded within the room are the castle servants, and a few nobles mingling at the edges. The King stands up from his throne on the the far side. He steps down making his way toward his son, a smile breaking out on his graying face, “Welcome home, Tobio!”

He claps, and the servants, so many of them huddled in this space, join him in the raucous. Prince Tobio bristles, face a scowl as he keeps walking, hands fisted at his sides. The King keeps the joyful tone in his voice, “And I see you have brought a visitor as well. Welcome Prince Shouyou.” Prince Shouyou gives an awkward little wave, but hurries to follow after Prince Tobio. The darker haired prince’s steps echo around the room as the claps quiet down, nervous hands unable to keep the momentum for long.

Prince Tobio knows why the servants are here. His father had not been subtle in his wording. _To make an example_. He swallows, lifts his head up high and stands beside the King. Prince Shouyou moves to stand on his other side and discretely gives his hand a squeeze.

The King smiles at him.

Prince Tobio wastes no time, face antsy to get this whole thing over with, “You lied,” he says. Says loudly, clearly and crisply in the silent room.

Prince Shouyou takes a step closer, almost as if ready to defend him if the King were to hit him, which, in all honesty, is a very likely possibility.

The King furrows his brows, “Tobio, what do you mean?”

“I’m sorry Father,” Prince Tobio continues, looking over the crowd nervously but forcing the words out all the same, “We don’t want to lie anymore.”

Prince Shouyou licks his lips, taking his cue to shout out, “Aoba Johsai! Look who we found!”

The castle doors kick open again, as Iwaizumi and Kyoutani storm in, swords drawn. All the servants let out a collective gasp as they rear back. Some screaming at the sudden appearance of swords in the mix, already antsy about being summoned into the hall. The King straightens, pushing the Princes away to stare at the intruders.

“Guards!” he shouts.

But the guards hesitate, eyes blinking at the sight of their fellow knights sudden return after their almost half year disappearance.

And then Yahaba steps through, face calm, feet sure and eyes neutral. His face is held up high as he holds the gazes of everyone present. But his arms give him away as the tremble at his sides.

Another collective intake of breath comes from the crowd, followed by uncontrollable murmuring. Servants try to move back, the crowd swaying with nervous energy. 

“Guards!” The King repeats, louder, angrier, “Seize _them!_ ”

And this time, the guards break free of their hold. Because everyone knows of Yahaba’s crime, of his cold blooded murder of their beloved prince. So they rush for him, weapons drawn. Iwaizumi and Kyoutani are quick to flank him, drawing their own swords out defensively, ready.

“That’s enough!” Oikawa shouts, stepping through not a moment too soon. Iwaizumi inwardly growls at him. _Your need for dramatic entrances could have gotten us killed_ , he thinks to himself.

But when Oikawa steps into full view a hush falls across the crowd. The guards stop mid step. Disbelief colors the faces of the servants and nobles alike. The guards lower their weapons as if their arms have grown numb at the sight of the ghost among them. 

And the King?

The King is furious and he repeats, “I said seize them!”

The guards hesitate, just as they did before, and Iwaizumi fights hard to hold back his smile. Because this doubt, this hesitancy, it means they’ve won. He chances a triumphant glance back at Oikawa but as he does he finds a frown forming on his face. Oikawa stands confident before him, but he stands as a human, demon ancestry hidden from view.

 _This isn’t the plan,_ Iwaizumi thinks, _are you still so terrified of letting them know?_

Oikawa pushes past Iwaizumi and Kyoutani, so that the entire room can see him. He is dressed in garbs borrowed from Tsukishima’s manor, darker colors than normally would compose his attire. His long cape drapes across his shoulders, falling down to his mid calf. His hood is down, revealing his perfectly combed brown hair. And although he is missing his signature tiara, there is no doubt in the people’s minds.

Their dead Prince has returned.

A sudden wave of bowing ensues among the crowd, and a surge of gleeful shouts, joyful tones and a few laughs echo throughout the room. Iwaizumi worries that the people will pour into the center of the room to be near their Prince, that they will crowd around him and make it impossible for him to reach the King. But the people stay back, and Iwaizumi wonders if that is Oikawa’s magic at work or simply their reverence of him keeping them glued to their spots.

Oikawa smiles at the servants, at their loyalty and deference. He keeps walking, head held high and gaze searing with fire, down the aisle toward his fuming father. He moves with purpose, with elegance, with the stride of a king.

The King is enraged, shouting once more at his guards, “Do you not listen to me? Your King? That is not the Prince! The Prince is _dead_. What appears before you is nothing but a monster! Don’t you see? A trick! Seize him!”

There is murmuring in the crowd, a new inkling of doubt planted in their collective minds. Iwaizumi starts hurrying after Oikawa, foregoing the plan of keeping out of sight. If Oikawa insists on going off script than he can to. His gut is telling him to stick close to Oikawa, it gnaws at him with a dread filled anxiety. No one moves to stop him. 

Oikawa makes no comment of his approach, simply continues his walk, addressing the King directly, but speaking to the entire room as he goes, “Father, while traveling to return to my home, I heard so many terrible things were happening within my castle walls. Paranoia, fear and unjust accusations. From those tales I can surmise that there is only one monster to be found here.”

Iwaizumi frowns, squeezing the grip on his sword. Throwing digs at the King was also not part of the plan. Revealing himself as a demon to the servants, and baring his honest soul _was_. He wonders what Oikawa is playing at. Was he trying to take over the crown without showing his true colors at all?

Iwaizumi looks closely at the Prince, sees how the hands held behind his back squeeze each other tight, knuckles white. He frowns, biting his lip harder. Oikawa still doubts that the world could ever accept him. Still paralyzed under the King’s gaze. And Iwaizumi wants to scream at him, _trust me_ , _please_ , _let them see you._

“The Prince is dead. What stands before us is a demonic copy preying on the hearts and minds of the people,” The King counters, unflinching even as Oikawa steps up to stand beside him.

Oikawa’s eyes shift, teeth gritting behind the dazzling smile he’s forced on his face, realizing the King’s new angle. It’s a clever one, he must admit. He hesitates a moment, thinking through every possible situation, every possible logical reasoning to explain away the King and keep swaying the crowd to his side.

And that is just what the King is waiting for.

In a skilled flick of the wrist, he pulls out his concealed dagger, moving to plunge it deep into the Prince’s chest. Oikawa had suspected his life would be challenged in this encounter, but never, _never_ , had he thought his Father to be the one to do it.

But Iwaizumi is quicker, shoving Oikawa out of the way with as much force as he can gather, turning to face the King and brace himself against his attack. But he isn’t fast enough, and the dagger pierces his stomach, shoving in deep as he lets out an agonizing shout.

The King’s eyes widen, letting go of the dagger as he takes in the victim he had not expected to be there. But he does not seem upset by the turn of events. In fact, he smiles. Because it’s a simply a different means to the same ends. That is, until he surveys the sudden electricity in the room.

The world had stopped in that moment, when the dagger had plunged into Iwaizumi’s skin. But the moment he screams it resumes, with more force than ever before. The King is suddenly overrun, in an unprecedented swirl of action from the servant body. They charge at him, screaming and pulling at him, pushed beyond their ability to cope. Having wrestled with tragedy after tragedy with no comfort to turn to, with only the ire of an ice cold King to lead them, they have had _enough_.

Iwaizumi falls back into Oikawa’s trembling arms, clutching at him with a sudden desperate fervor. He ends up crumpled to the ground, leaning on the Prince for support. An arm he can’t recognize pulls the dagger out of him, and he lets out another pained scream. There are servants pulling at him, at his clothes, grabbing at his legs, and each touch is agony in this state. He can tell Oikawa is talking to him, in frantic worried tones but he can not hear him over the chaos of the room.

The King is shouting for the guards.

The guards are not moving.

Prince Tobio is shouting.

No one is listening.

The nobles are shouting.

No one is listening.

A foot kicks at Iwaizumi’s wound by mistake and he lets out another pained scream.

One person is listening.

And then Prince Oikawa lets out an inhuman screech, and the world falls eerily silent.

The people swarming Iwaizumi suddenly rush away, falling back as a desperate fear seizes their hearts. Iwaizumi’s vision is blurry, as he tries to catch his breath. The hands around him disappear and he staggers, trying to sit up on the ground. He spits out blood onto the floor, wiping at his mouth and squeezing his eyes shut. He lets his hand clutch at his wounded stomach, feeling blood pour out of him, the viscous liquid slipping through his trembling fingers.

He looks up and he realizes the reason for the shift in the room.

He curses inwardly.

 _You’re playing right into his hand_.

Oikawa stands menacingly over him, stance guarded, spiral horns sharpened and fangs barred at the King. His aura presses out, forming a protective ring around the Iwaizumi and the demon. The servants nearby have shrunk back in shock, and the King takes the moment’s reprieve to stand himself back up, a smirk on his face.

He points an accusing finger at the screeching beast, “Do you believe me now? This monster dared to sneak onto the thrown through lies and treachery. I will forgive you for you knew no better, but we must _destroy_ him.”

“Father!” Prince Tobio shouts, but his words are drowned out as the guards move forward, dishing out commands, and pushing the Princes and nobles away. The servants fall back fearfully, letting out terrified screams and yelps.

Oikawa’s eyes are red, pulse frantic, talons twitching. His hackles are raised, his thin tail lashes about and he snarls at them all. Iwaizumi feels nausea building up his throat but he forces himself to stand up, legs weak. His head stares at the blood soaked floor, eyes fluttering dizzily as he does his best to stand up.

“Stop,” he gurgles, more blood rising up his throat like bile just to dribble down his chin. He coughs, red liquid splattering all over himself and the tiles. He sways, hand reaching out for Oikawa’s shoulder to support himself.

And just like that, Oikawa’s hackles lower, and his arms come back up to support him, to hold him up. The guards have stopped their advancement, wary and unsure of how to proceed now that Iwaizumi stands in their way. But within their flanks, Yahaba and Kyoutani bully their way through, standing protectively in front of Prince Tooru and the injured knight.

“They’re all traitors!” The King shouts, “They’ve been manipulated by the demon’s magic. Hurry! Seize them all! Kill them if you have to!”

But the guards remain hesitant, and Iwaizumi isn’t sure if it’s guilt or fear or a mixture of the two that binds them where they are. But the world is getting so foggy, as he slumps against Oikawa. At least the room is quieter now and he can finally hear.

“Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, please, hold on to me, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” Oikawa repeats like a mantra in his ears, fingers digging into his side, and voice shaky.

“What are you waiting for! Kill the monster!”

The guards move forward. Kyoutani and Yahaba brace themselves.

Iwaizumi sees Oikawa’s eyes turn redder.

He pulls away, staggering, “He’s not a monster!” he shouts, more blood spilling from him as he does.

The guards pause again, all eyes on him. Finally, a brave servant presses forward from the cowering crowd, “Iwaizumi,” she murmurs, hands clutching at her sides in terror, “What is going on? What do we believe?”

“Attack him!” The King orders angrily.

“Prince Tooru is a demon,” Iwaizumi manages, “But he has always been one, since he was born.”

A murmur of disbelief echoes through the crowd. Iwaizumi stumbles again, and Oikawa lunges to catch him, holding him up in his arms. The guards point their swords at the demon because of his sudden movement, one blade close enough to knick his arm. He winces.

“Stop!” Iwaizumi snaps, waving a trembling hand, “Don’t hurt him!”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cries, and then he looks out at the crowd, “Please, is there a doctor present? Please! Let them through! You can have me I don’t care, he’s lost so much blood, please. Please, please if you’re a doctor come forward!”

There’s a murmur throughout the crowd until a woman pushes her way through. She hesitates at the sight of Oikawa up close, and the Prince backs away with his hands up to give her room. She kneels by Iwaizumi, examining the wound carefully. She rips off a piece of cloth from her skirt, holding it over the cut to provide the necessary pressure to stop the bleeding. Iwaizumi groans.

Prince Tooru looks over the crowd, and in that moment he looks smaller, terrified as all eyes are on him. His gaze flicks to his father, and his shoulder’s seem to slump inward as he looks down at the floor. Because it’s just as he had always wanted. He had been discovered, and now he would be killed or forced to run away. It’s just as he had always imagined. How could he ever think otherwise? How could he ever believe... He bites his bottom lip, unbothered as his fangs pierce his skin, letting his eyes rake in the sight of Iwaizumi suffering on the ground, _because of him_. But green eyes look at him, strong and steady, and they tell him again and again, _trust me_.

Oikawa looks up from the ground, brown eyes clear and head high. He fists his hands at his side and steps forward, unflinching when the guards point their swords at him. He looks out at the crowd.

“You all deserve an explanation,” he begins, carefully, “What Iwaizumi says is true. I am, I am a demon.” he spreads his arms out as if to prove it, “But I did not become one after my death. I never died. I have always been this way.

“Since I was born I have been forced to hide this from you all. Any hint of my truth would have ended in my death at _his_ hands. I never wanted to lie to you. To any of you. You are my people, and I have loved you all so much,” his breath hitches, eyes searching the room, “You have given me everything my entire life. Ayame, I cherished the milkbread sweets you would sneak to my room whenever I was scolded heavily. Kaori, the words you spoke about my dear mother at her funeral helped me to continue. Tachibana, I don’t know how you realized that lilies were my favorite, but the fact you made sure to grow them where I did my afternoon readings on the grounds did not go unnoticed,” he pauses to take in a breath, “I have come to know each and every one of you. And I have loved you all.

“Father has longed to get rid of me, and the simplest most beneficial way he found was to sell me to Shiratorizawa. But when it came time to go, I could not bare to leave you all. Aoba Johsai is my home, and you my people.”

“He’s manipulating you all!” The King warns, voice growing louder.

“He’s telling the truth,” Prince Tobio shouts back instead, much to his father’s horror, “My brother has had demon blood for as long as I have known him. He speaks the truth.”

But the servants are still wary, moved by the words but not wholly convinced. Instead, their eyes rest on Iwaizumi’s fallen form. The medicine woman has managed to bandage him up as best she can. She lets him sip water from the canteen Yahaba brandishes for her.

They all look to him for any sort of guidance.

Iwaizumi realizes this, and he pushes the canteen away to stand up shakily. Oikawa lurches for him again, making it so he does not fall. This time, the guards don’t follow his movement, but their weapons remain drawn, tense.

Iwaizumi looks over the crowd, “My word is not worth more than yours,” he reasons, with a pained sigh, “I am an honest man. In fact, I’ve been told many, _many_ times, I am incapable of telling a lie.” There is an awkward chuckle in certain corners of the room, and Iwaizumi manages to wince out a smile, “Prince Tooru may be a selfish brat with too big of an ego at times, but I can attest, day in and day out, he only wishes for what is best for the Seijoh people. He is telling the truth. His appearance may seem different but his heart is still true,” he takes in a ragged breath, eyes squeezing shut a moment as he speaks again, “And I know, and I think you all know as well, that his heart deserves the crown more than anyone else here.”

“This is insane. Why listen to him, of all people?” The King growls, stepping forward to point an accusing finger at the injured knight, “You are _nothing,_ Iwaizumi. You were born a peasant boy and you’ll soon die a peasant boy, worth less than the floor we walk on. What you speak of is nothing short of treason and deserving of death! You are nothing!”

The room is silent but for Iwaizumi’s labored breathing.

And than a servant woman shouts out, angry indignant and loud, “ _We_ are not nothing!”

There is a swell in the room, an angry righteous wind passing through the men and woman of the castle. The words become a chant, growing in power as they are repeated over and over again. Kyoutani charges forward with a grin, the words passing through his own lips. Almost unanimously, under his sudden lead, the guards turn their weapons on the King, bearing down upon his shocked face.

“We are not nothing! We have never been nothing! We are not nothing!”

Oikawa takes the moment to pull Iwaizumi closer, “Are you alright?”

Iwaizumi groans, “Could be better,” he tries to humor. Oikawa looks on the verge of more tears, so Iwaizumi sighs out, squeezing the hands wrapped around him, “You need to take control of the room before they burn the place down.”

“I wouldn’t even mind, at this point.”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, carefully, lifting a hand to caress his cheek, “They _need_ you.”

Oikawa takes the hand, kissing it chastely before helping Iwaizumi down to sit on the ground. Yahaba moves to stand with him, to keep him from being trampled by the chaotic crowd around them.

Oikawa takes a deep breath, eyes glinting red, “Stop!”

The room exhales, in a wave all eyes come to rest on Oikawa. The Prince squares himself at the attention, taking a deep breath, “Killing my father, though an idea I am not wholly adverse to, will not help us. It will cause only more strife. There has been enough death in these halls. I only wish to breath new life here.”

Kyoutani lets go of the King’s collar, and the servants and guards around him take a step back. Prince Tobio steps in, helping his beleaguered father up.

Oikawa scans the crowd, face hardening as confidence blossoms in his heart. They are listening to him. Despite his horns, his talons and his fangs, they are listening.

“You are not nothing,” Oikawa continues, “You are _everything_. You are the people of Aoba Johsai, and with that title should come fierce pride and admiration! You, are the ones that bring the nation its glory. It is you that make this kingdom what it is. It has always been you,” he closes his eyes, realizing at length, what he must do. He opens his eyes, “And it is you, I ask, to crown me in my father’s stead. I give that power, that trust, to you.”

There is a hush in the room, wide eyes looking at each other at the proclamation. They swallow, nervously, no one ready to speak out. No one knowing what to do, with a choice so big in their hands. This is not something anyone had ever experienced, had ever even imagined. The King looks ready to blow up again if he weren’t so tarnished and exhausted, trapped in his youngest son’s angry grip.

As the silence grows in the crowd, eyes begin to veer toward the injured knight, once more drawn toward him for guidance.

Oikawa’s smile grows as he follows their gazes, and he takes a step back toward Iwaizumi, “I am also, a man of compromise,” he begins, tone lighter than it’s been since returning home. He leans down to help Iwaizumi back up, “And I know Iwaizumi is the man truly beloved by you all. He loves you, he supports you, he advocates for you, he is _one_ of you. And I was going to wait a little longer before saying this, when I had time to plan something truly extravagant, worthy for the occasion, worthy of _him_. But this might as well be the best time as any.”

Oikawa smiles at Iwaizumi, who looks at him warily, eyes tired and squinting, face bloody and beaten. The Prince takes the knight’s hand, squeezing it and holding it out so the crowd--so the world--may see, “I, Prince Tooru, fully intend to ask Iwaizumi Hajime to be my lawfully wedded husband, and in turn, to crown him a King of Aoba Johsai.”

Iwaizumi’s face blossoms red, as all the blood he thought had drained out of him by now rushes to his face. He stares, mouth agape at the proposal and all he can see is Oikawa’s grinning face and shining eyes.

“Of course,” Oikawa adds, biting his lip and raising his eyebrows at the man beside him, “As long as he chooses to have me.”

“I can’t believe this,” Iwaizumi huffs. Because he _can’t_. Because marrying Oikawa had never even crossed his mind before. Because it wasn’t something that could be done. Oikawa had been betrothed to someone else for as long as he could remember, and even if he were not, he was just a lowly servant boy. But Oikawa’s eyes are loving and serious, and Iwaizumi realizes the opinion in the room has shifted once more. He can _feel_ the excitement in the air, bubbling about him and so he hastens to respond, despite his reeling mind, “Of course, I’ll marry you, you idiot.”

He’s barely gotten the words out before Oikawa pulls him in for a kiss, and Iwaizumi flounders, arms coming up to push his face away, “Don’t you dare fucking kiss me right now, there is literal blood pouring from my mouth!”

Oikawa laughs pressing a kiss to his cheek instead, nuzzling into his face as his grip around him tightens.

And when Iwaizumi opens his eyes he can acknowledge the world around him. That the room has been filled with loud pent up cheers and hollers. Cries of excitement and ecstasy echo far and wide as the people cheer. Their acceptance, their agreement, synonymous with their waving hands and jumping feet.

The room is a surge of happiness at the idea, at the _reality_ of one of their own, one they had grown to love so dearly through his honest, simple dedication, had risen to the highest office possible. And all this, only with the agreement of their collective opinion. A power they had never before even hoped to realized.

They start flooding the area, pushing their way up to congratulate the pair. Fear forgotten upon realization that this _is_ still the Prince they had loved for so very long, and that if this is enough for Iwaizumi it should be enough for them. Oikawa lets himself be swept up into the crowd, letting the servants have a field day with their questions and prying touch. He answers them all in good fun.

He laughs as a servant boy asks to touch his horns, “Yes they’re real,”

“Yes, they’ve always been there! I use illusion magic to conceal them. Remember how I never let you brush my hair Sayako?”

“Ow! Don’t pull my tail _too_ roughly. It’s not supposed to come off!”

Iwaizumi is separated from him as even more of his fellows accost him. Congratulations are heralded at him, and he is greeted with so many hugs and well wishes and _we missed yous_. It warms his heart and he wants to return all their words, all their greetings,but he is exhausted, and his wound throbs painfully at his core. Instead, he asks to sit down.

In a flurry the people pull him toward the throne, sitting him down on the seat, left empty for months with the passing of the queen. The sit him down, preening and giggle around him. It is the comfiest seat he has ever sat in and he sinks into it with a pained sigh.

He catches Oikawa’s eyes, filled with adoration and pride.

Iwaizumi supposes he could get used to this.

* * *

It takes months to get everything in order. Oikawa has the castle servants’ support, but he has an entire nation to convince. He promotes Yahaba to be his lead advisor, keeping the rest of his father’s council after careful consideration. He orders the replanting of the orchards and agrees to plans to renovate the servant’s quarters. He orders his father to be isolated to his study and monitored heavily for the rest of his days.

He spends the first few weeks of his reign with open doors, allowing servants and nearby villagers to walk in and speak with him about whatever concerns they may have.

Iwaizumi spends these days with Prince Tobio and his tutors, practicing his reading and writing skills. He toils in the afternoon writing the same letters over and over again, stays up late fighting through thick books on Aoba Johsai’s history and in bed he keeps Oikawa up with his multitude of questions. He visits the medicine woman periodically to check on his healing wound. It’s an ugly scar, but he does not mind it, especially as Oikawa takes to tracing his fingers along it’s jagged lines.

Once the castle has calmed down, Oikawa begins his crowned tour of the kingdom. He leaves the castle in Prince Tobio and Yahaba’s trusted hands. He sends word to Lord Takahiro and Matsukawa to visit the castle and aid in anything as part of his circle of Trusted noble advisors. And with that, he is gone, Iwaizumi by his side, to spread news of his ascension and speak with the people himself.

In most villages, especially as they get further from the capital, he hides his demonic heritage. People are more superstitious here, more wary, and he is cognizant of that. But when people ask it of him he does not lie. He simply does not show them. It is up to them whether or not to believe him. Rumors spread throughout the lands and abroad, of the new Demon King of Aoba Johsai. But many citizens treat it as a badge of pride, as a way to incite fear against any potential enemies, as a title meant to show the cunning strength of their new leader.

The people adore their new King. With his charming smile, dazzling good looks and the fact he felt the need to reach out to them in the first place. Iwaizumi, after learning his story, they uphold as a hero, the man who made it, and who did not forget from whence he came.

On the international scale it goes just as smoothly. Prince Shouyou clamors his support for the new Grand King, his fathers following in his stead. King Daichi gives Iwaizumi a knowing look, a shared sense of experience between the two. And Iwaizumi feels the alliance between the two Kingdoms strengthening even further, _thanks to him_.

Datekou is a bit more difficult to convince, the stalwart nation not a fan of sudden change and upheaval. But Prince Wakatoshi’s unflinching support is enough to assuage any of their doubts. They accept the new Kings with stiff nods and little words.

Of course, Shiratorizawa’s support comes with a price. The price being answers. Answers for months of worry and years of confusion. And Oikawa sighs, because again, it is a reasonable request from the foreign Prince. So Oikawa shows him, shows him _everything,_ and Ushijima, to his credit, takes it all with stride. He merely laments, slightly, of how powerful Shiratorizawa would become if they had seen their partnership through to the end.

Oikawa is unamused by the comment, flicking a hand at him. Ushijima lets out a sigh, but there is the hint of a smile on his lips. Oikawa thanks him for everything after receiving a jab from Iwaizumi. He leans forward, pecking Ushijima on both cheeks as is custom. Then Ushijima turns to Iwaizumi expectantly. Iwaizumi blinks at him.

“I hear you are a King to be, Iwaizumi?” Ushijma prompts, raising a brow.

Oikawa _cackles_.

Iwaizumi flames up as he leans up, forced to get on his tip toes to press chaste kisses on both of Ushijima’s cheeks. When they pull away and leave the foreign Prince’s company Oikawa kisses Iwaizumi, giggling as he says, “Palette cleanser!”

Iwaizumi swats him away, wiping at his face as he tries to regain his composure. But with the sudden new formality foisted on him, he realizes all the other doors his new status opens up. That he will never again be barred from rooms Oikawa is able to enter, that he will never again be looked down on with disdain, that his opinion will now matter. And the realization makes him carry himself higher, makes his shoulders straighter, makes his smile more confident.

After months spent on the road they are able to return to the castle. Yet, there is still no time to rest, as the wedding preparations leap into full swing. The castle is lit up, the rich tapestries of blue and white hung in every room. The flowers grown for the occasion are plucked and set. The music is written. The speeches prepared. The minister readied. The guests invited.

As date comes to ahead, and it is time for the ceremony to begin everyone is in attendance of this wedding. Foreign dignitaries, local nobles, the servants of the castle and any villagers who could spare a day off work and wished to attend were invited.

The only ones missing now were the grooms themselves.

Inside Oikawa’s locked chamber room, Iwaizumi grumbles to himself as he plays with Oikawa’s pristine collar. Oikawa laughs, trying to push Iwaizumi away unsuccessfully, “Iwa-chan, it’s bad luck for you to see me!”

“Yeah well, maybe you should have learned to dress yourself, then?” Iwaizumi snaps back, dusting off the other’s shoulders unnecessarily. It was mostly to have his hands do something. Oikawa looks impeccable in his white suit, too beautiful to look at directly for long.

Oikawa giggles, lifting his hands to take Iwaizumi’s own and kiss him on the lips, “You’re so fidgety when you’re nervous,” he muses, massaging Iwaizumi’s wrists with his grip.

Iwaizumi glowers, “I’m not nervous. Come on we’re going to be late.”

“You worried they’ll start without us?” Oikawa grins, a laugh teasing his lips.

Iwaizumi smacks his shoulder, “Can I ask for a divorce before we’re legally married?”

“Unfair,” Oikawa bemoans, “Then we’d have to split the kingdom in half after all the trouble we just took to keep it together.”

Iwaizumi snorts, frown falling from his face to be replaced with a small smile, “Don’t be cute.”

“Impossible,” Oikawa replies, eyes dazzling, “Have you _seen_ me?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, smile breaking out into a grin, “Are you sure your new crown is going to fit over your giant head?”

Oikawa laughs, “I would be more worried about you, Iwa-chan. Don’t let it fall from your untrained head!” He takes the moment to play with Iwaizumi’s hair, that he’s slicked back for the occasion. He kisses the man’s forehead, “Now that I think about it, I suppose we’re going to have to get you your own persona attendant soon.”

Iwaizumi’s face is a deadpan of emotion, “Fuck. No.”

Oikawa laughs, hand coming up to cover his mouth as it overtakes him. Iwaizumi jabs his side, only making the other man giggle harder. He takes his wrist instead, pulling him at him, “Oikawa come on, let’s go.”

“Yes, yes,” Oikawa sighs, allowing himself to be lead out of his chambers. His eyes are filled with mirth and amusement, and love, so much of it, that it burst out of him as he speaks, tone still tinged with laughter,

“Whatever you wish, _Your Highness._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S OVER!!
> 
> This is the fastest I have ever completed a multi-chaptered story in my entire life! It took only a month to write this baby and I am really really proud of it and myself. I hope you all loved reading it as much as I loved writing it! Please let me know what you think. 
> 
> Thank you again for all your support and kind reviews! They really kept me going!!! If you ever wish to talk to me about this story or anything really, you can find me at my tumblr: findingschmomo.tumblr.com
> 
> Until next time!


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